


Sweeps Week

by kat_scarlett



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas with a smart phone, Disappointing lack of Casa Erotica, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Rambling Dialogue, Season/Series 11, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:04:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5088279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_scarlett/pseuds/kat_scarlett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reimagining of Season 11 featuring: archangels, hunters, chupacabras, existential threats, and one doozy of a crush.</p><p>Originally written for the Spoopy Halloween Fic Exchange, and now expanded into an entire season arc. Not canon compliant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cold Open

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Taste_of_Suburbia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/gifts).



> This is my first genuine return to fanfic in at least 5 years, so I'd like to thank MarchingJayBird for organizing this fic exchange!
> 
> I hope this isn't too much of a disappointment for Taste_of_Suburbia; I wanted to explore Gabriel / Dean as a dynamic and this wound up growing into a much larger idea than I could complete in time. I hope you enjoy my little 'Pilot Episode' so to speak.
> 
> Oh, and the song which I reference is "Heel Turn 2" by The Mountain Goats.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean heads out to deal with a routine poltergeist and ends up on a road trip back to the Elysian Fields.

The kids in town liked to say that a witch had been hung and then burned in the backyard of the Grimby Farmhouse back in 1864. And when there was that freaky meteor shower about a year or so back, it woke her spirit. And she woke angry.

That was all hogwash of course, the only witch of any sort in the house was Gracie herself, which made it doubly annoying when that damned meteor shower seemed to drop a poltergeist into her parlor.

“Be gone, dang you!”

Everyone agreed that Gracie Grimby was spry for 86, but it was still a surprise when she caught the errant bible out of the air as it launched itself from the shelf across from her. The other three women stayed huddled beneath the card table.

A low rumble was filling the house, rattling the china in the cupboards, and scattering cards onto the floor; books and Hummel figurines were being thrown to the floor. Gracie was standing next to the table and in the center of the ruckus; she was not amused.

“I said, be _gone_ , spirit!” she barked, slamming the bible down on to the table sharply, startling yelps out of the women below it. “This is entirely uncalled for; now _stop!_ ”

The silence was deafening.

A few items settled, and after a moment, her friends crept out from under the table and peered around. One, Yoland, brushed herself off and turned to Gracie, “What the Devil was that?”

There was a rustling, and all eyes turned to see the bible open and rustle through it’s own pages before settling again. Gracie scowled and held out her index finger over the open page. “If it’s so important, then just show me,” she said, the disapproval strong in her voice, “No need to throw a tantrum like a child.”

Her index finger touched the page with certainty, and she looked down to read the selected text.

_"Suppose there is a righteous man who does what is just and right."_

“What’s it say?” Yoland asked as she gathered up some of the scattered figurines.

Gracie Grimby frowned in thought down at the bible, “It’s a passage about a righteous man.” There was a soft scraping sound behind her, one of her friends tidying up most likely. “But I’ll be jiggered if I know what means…”

“Winchester,” Yoland answered in a shaky voice. Gracie turned back to see her friends staring at her mantelpiece. A piece of charcoal hung in the air, and then moved intently to scrape along beneath the scrawled name.

**Winchester**

Gracie scowled and crossed her arms, “I’ll need my phone book and one of them magic erasers, ladies.”

* * *

  Considering how the past few years have gone, Dean Winchester wouldn’t even get out of bed for a minor poltergeist interrupting a knitting circle or whatever. It’s the exact job that little baby-hunters are meant to go cut their teeth on while people like Dean are out leaving little more than blood and Darkness behind them – his mind flinched away from the thought, and Dean fidgeted with the radio in the Impala for a moment as he took a shaky breath.

Right. Weak-ass poltergeist in West Bumblefuck Minnesota. He normally wouldn’t bother, but it had been one of Dad’s old burner phones that rang. Not many people would be calling for John Winchester these days; those that did however, they generally deserved to be answered, even if it had been an awkward conversation.

The old woman seemed equally unimpressed with the unseen ghost, but then they don’t normally ask for hunters by name. In a rare moment of brotherly communication, he’d talked the call over with Sam, and they’d agreed that a quick job and a little bit of breathing room between the two of them might not be a bad idea. For a given ‘Winchester’ value of bad ideas.

Dean pulled up to the worn farmhouse and looked around the property a moment. A storm was rolling in, bringing heavy gray clouds and gusts of wind that scattered the fallen leaves across the path up to the porch. The place practically begged for a haunting. Hauling himself out of the car, Dean headed back to trunk and started putting together the little containers for the purification ritual. He glanced over the trunk lid and did a quick count, eyebrow lifting in thought. Two floors, plus an attic and basement just to be thorough; he looked back down, hoping he had enough van van oil for sixteen containers.

“If yer making the juju-bags, I already got ‘em.”

Dean Winchester most certainly did not jump six inches back from the Impala, yelping like a startled dog. “Jesus…” he huffed out, closing the trunk, and coming around the car, “What the hell, lady?”

The woman looked decidedly unimpressed, “You learn those manners from John, did ya, boy?” She had a dark complexion with silver hair cut into a short ‘pixie’ cut, and her features were softened with laugh lines and age, but her eyes were sharp and stern. She was leaning against the post at the top of the porch steps, arms crossed expectantly.

“No, ma’am; sorry ma’am,” Dean answered back as if he were twelve again, then cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders as he headed up to greet her, offering his hand. “Dean Winchester.”

She shook it with a nod, “Gracie Grimby, thank you for coming out so quickly.”

“It’s no problem, ma’am,” he replied, “but it sounds like you have things handled, if you’ve already got the bags for the ritual?”

Gracie waved him into the house behind her, “Oh normally yes, a poltergeist is nothing to get my feathers ruffled over, but then they don't normally request a specific exorcist.”

He gave a thoughtful shrug, "True, that's a bit weird." She gestured above the fireplace as they entered the living room, and sure enough he could see “Winchester” scrawled clearly across the paint.

“I figured you want to see before I cleaned it up,” she told him, and Dean nodded as he headed past her to take a closer look.

“This spook do anything else?” He asked. Maybe it wasn’t a poltergeist per say…but a full ghost, someone who knew Dad? Gracie handed him a small Ziploc bag – it held a Snicker’s bar wrapper. Dean turned and took it, then quirked a brow, “I don’t see what’s weird about this. It’s scarily good?”

The old woman snorted, “My grand-daughter is deathly allergic to peanuts; I don’t tolerate any peanut products in the house. We found this on the kitchen counter.”

Dean frowned, “Could someone have come in without you knowing?”

“I keep the doors locked,” she answered, “And I haven’t had any work done in the kitchen for years.”

There was a soft clink behind them, and both turned to look back at the mantle piece where something sparkled at them. Dean stepped forward for a better look, and Gracie gripped his arm. “Careful, that wasn’t there before.”

He scowled slightly and looked back at her a moment, “I just need a closer look.” There was some little detail to the glimmer that he was missing; he knew it would make sense once he got a clear view of it. He stepped away from Gracie and stepped forward, leaning in to peer at the sparkle.

_Gotcha!_

There was a flash of white and Dean Winchester was knocked flat on his ass.

He found himself, blinking up at the ceiling, lights dancing across his field of vision. Gracie Grimby was looking down at him with a concerned expression. “You okay, son?”

_Yep, everything’s fine. Just need to set up the ritual._

“Yeah, we’re good,” he answered, pulling himself back up to his feet and dusting himself off. “Let’s set up the ritual and show this ghost the exit.”

The old woman gave him an appraising look, “Sure, if you’re ready. I already put the bags out – we just need to say the words.” 

* * *

It was pretty cut and dry after that. Gracie said the words with a practiced ease, and the two of them watched a shimmering mass writhe and scream out before fading with a rush of wind. Dean shook her hand, and she sent him on his way with a fresh baked casserole as a thank you. All in all, Dean considered as he drove back towards the bunker, it had been a pretty good trip.

_A pie would’ve been better though._

Things are always better with pie; that’s just an honest fact. But who was Dean to turn his nose up at any sincerely made home cooked meal – especially when it smelled as good as Gracie’s chicken, broccoli, and cheese casserole? Sam and Cas would be lucky if he didn’t eat the whole thing before he got back.

_Easy there, Dean-o; you’ve already got kind of a dad-bod._

He slammed on the brakes in the middle of the empty country road. “Who the hell is that?!” he growled, gripping the rear-view mirror to look himself in the eyes. “No way that was me thinking that!”

_Take a deep breath. It’d be a shame if you died of a heart attack right here._

Now that he was really listening, Dean could clearly tell the different voice within his own head. He wasn’t fully possessed yet though, so he yanked the glove box open to grab the holy water and a crucifix stashed there.

_Really?_

“Yeah, really,” Dean liberally splashed himself in the face and then gripped the crucifix tightly, glaring on it. There was a pregnant pause and then…

_Yes, it’s lovely._

The voice was familiar. “Dammit, get _out_.”

_Not yet, kiddo. I need your help for that._

“Not gonna happen.” God, it was on the tip of his tongue.

_Oh c’mon, be a pal! I helped you and Sammy out before!_

Dean huffed and wiped the water off his face, “Who the hell is this anyways?”

_Okay, now don’t freak out. Look in the mirror._

He reached back up to the rear view mirror and looked. A goddamned archangel with a perpetual smirk was looking back at him. For a moment, Dean was thunderstruck, then Gabriel quirked his eyebrow.

_Here’s Gabe-y._

“Oh no, no no no,” Dean said, shaking his head and turning back around to grip the Impala’s steering wheel. “Nope, no; you are dead.”

_I prefer to think of it as ‘mostly dead’._

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he griped, putting the car back in gear and continuing to drive down the road.

_Mostly dead is slightly alive._

“Stow it, Miracle Max. I meant how are you not completely dead?” He looked in the rearview to find it empty again and Dean frowned.

_Eyes on the road, Dean-o._

He blinked in surprise and looked forward to see an approaching stoplight. When he stopped, there was a flicker next to him and Dean realized that Gabriel was now riding shotgun. “Jesus, don’t do that,” he huffed, looking back to the light, “And don’t change the subject.”

_Are you going to feel kinda dumb for asking if I tell you it was trick? Because you should. Hello? Trickster, remember?_

Next to him, Gabriel’s lips didn’t move as his voice answered in Dean’s head; he did however lift his hands to wiggle his fingers and then point towards himself for emphasis as he ‘spoke’. Dean scowled him – then scowled harder when the person behind him honked at him for lingering at the green light. “Quit that – get your voice out of my head. It’s freaky.”

Gabriel appeared to heave a long suffering sigh, but at least it ended with a put upon “Fine. Whatever makes _Dean_ more comfortable.”

“Oh don’t be like that; I’m not the one who lied about being dead for years.”

The archangel frowned, “It wasn’t all smoke and mirrors. The most convincing tricks have a foundation of truth to them.” As he spoke, Gabriel looked out at the road ahead and seemed to absentmindedly rub the center of his chest. “I was little more than a spark until I got all my Grace back.”

“Cas has some experience with that; how’d you get yours back?”

“I made a deal for a one time guest appearance.”

Dean gave the archangel a confused glance, “I…uh…I’ll just pretend to understand that.”

Gabriel shrugged, “Eh, ask Cassie about it sometime, for now, we’ve got places to be.”

“Whoa, the only place we’re going is home.”

“Oh c’mon, Dean, I know you think you’re hot shit, but I don’t actually want to use you as a vessel.” Dean sputtered indignantly at this, but Gabriel continued as if he didn’t notice, “I just needed a ride.”

“Then why ask for me specifically?”

Gabriel slouched lower in the seat and shrugged, “I just asked for a Winchester, you’re the only ones currently strong enough to house an archangel without getting crisped. I thought I’d be seeing Sammy to be honest.” Dean frowned and focused on driving down the state route – it made sense, most people were generally happier to see Sammy. Beside him, Gabriel made a loud tsk’ing noise and reached forward to fiddle with the radio. “Don’t be like _that_ ,” the archangel scolded, “I’m still in your head. I’m not _disappointed_ that it’s you, Dean-o.”

“Because beggars can’t be choosers, right?” Dean snarked back to him as a song started drifting over the airwaves. Gabriel made a thoughtful sound and leaned back in his seat.

_"Drift down into the new dark light, without any reservations…"_

Dean blinked, fingers clenching around the steering wheel.

_"You’ve found my breaking point. Congratulations._

_Spent too much of my life now trying to play fair."_

Gabriel was looking at him silently as they drove; he could see it out of the corner of his eye, and worse, he could feel the full weight of the archangel’s attention within his own head as the damn song continued.

_"Come unhinged. Get revenge. I don’t want to die-"_

“Jesus, what the hell,” Dean finally broke and reached out, spinning the radio to static because he just couldn’t stand another moment of feeling laid bare by the Gabriel’s stare. It was nothing like Cas’s puppy dog eyes and disappointment. Gabriel felt…bigger, older, and more alien than any angel had in a really long time.

After a moment, the blond blinked and his expression softened into a lopsided smile, “I just wanted to catch up on what I missed.”

Dean swallowed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “Yeah, well, don’t do that. I get enough disappointment from the peanut gallery at home.”  The car fell uncomfortably silent except for the buzz of static and Dean could only stand it a few moments before he reached over to find a radio station. “You could’ve found us sooner, you know,” he said, “We could have used your help.” Dean glanced over to find the passenger seat empty again.

_Sorry, making you hallucinate how gorgeous I am is exhausting. And you don’t have a monopoly on disappointing people, you know._

“Yeah, well, I like to think I’m raising the bar a little though at least,” he huffed with a wry smile. Dean felt a warm wash of humor pass over him, and he got the distinct sense that Gabriel was laughing.

_Okay fair point, you boys have a pretty impressive track record for being at the forefront at whatever celestial shit has come back in vogue. Personally, I have a theory that every continent gets a turn at being the battleground for whoever has a grudge against Dad to come take some potshots._

Dean blinked at that, “What makes you say that?”

_Think about it – the whole cradle of civilization had to deal with the entire Old Testament. I mean, things are shitty right now, but do you remember the Old Testament?! Sheesh, no thank you, been there done that. From there it moves to Europe – I’m thinking Black Death levels of shittiness right there. Now it’s in the US. Give it a few hundred years and my money’s on the Australian’s being very surprised._

They merged onto a larger road while Dean thought about that. “Is this more about your inevitability bullshit? Nothing Sammy or I could have done to prevent any of this, so why bother?”

_I’m specifically saying that like all things in the universe, the relative location of Heaven and Hell have moved around the Earth through history. You boys just had the bad luck, or destiny, to be born into it._

Dean frowned, “Is that supposed to make me feel better about the shit I’ve done?”

_That’s impossible, Dean-o; you’re stubborn as a mule. But from my perspective, I don’t exactly blame the bullet for the intent of the gunman._

The smell of gun smoke drifted through his mind, and Dean frowned. “So which am I?” he asked, then immediately felt his own eyes rolling in exasperation.

_Boring question. Let’s play truth or dare instead; we’ve got a few hours of driving left._

Dean barked a laugh, “No, and now that you mention it, where exactly am I driving us?”

_Elysian Fields. My vessel, remember? Don’t sweat the details, you’ve got Celestial GPS on board now._

He shook his head a little, still smiling, “I guess I’ll just leave it to the inevitable then?”

_Now you’re getting it. C’mon truth or dare._

“No!”

_It’s that’s or the license plate game, and we are NOT going to see Hawaii or Alaska out here…_

“Guess you’ll just be stuck then,” Dean teased, settling comfortably back down into the driver’s seat while Gabriel’s voice settled into a comfortable white noise as the archangel called out the different state license plates they passed.

* * *

Dean pulled them into the parking lot of a small motel a little after 8pm, stretching and groaning as his spine protested and snapped at the long drive.

_Not feeling so young anymore, huh?_

“Shaddup,” he muttered, booking a room and moving the Impala over to park in front of the cheery yellow door. “You’re just mad you never saw Hawaii.”

_Damn right I am, the game was rigged to lose from the beginning… Don’t know why I bothered…_

Dean grabbed Gracy’s casserole; opened the room door; and cranked up the ac before flopping on the bed. He thought for a minute, then said “Maybe because it’s better than doing nothing?”

_Well sure, I can’t just do nothing—Oh ha ha, I see what you did there. Verrry clever, Winchester._

He laughed, “I have my moments.” Sitting back up, he fished his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Sammy. His brother was understandably reluctant to believe that not only had Gabriel survived, but that he was currently squatting in Dean’s head.

_Lemme talk to him._

Dean shook his head while he continued talking to Sammy, “I dunno what to tell you man, but it’s true.” Gabriel kept whining at him, “Dammit, now he wants to talk to you.”

“So do it, let me talk to him Dean,” Sam replied with that frustrating patience of his.

_I knew he was the smart one._

“Dammit, this is getting too confusing for me to follow anyways. Fine, Gabriel, you talk to Sammy.” And just like that, Dean’s mouth was no longer his own. It didn’t hurt, and he felt like himself in every other way except for this sudden numb feeling that ran from his nose down his throat. And the voice that suddenly came out sounded like a disturbing mix of his voice with Gabriel’s smooth drawl. “Now this is more like it. Hiya Sammy, how’re things?”

“…Uh, could be better I suppose. So now you’re going to prove that you’re actually Gabriel?” Sam finally said after a long pause, sounding about as creeped out as Dean was.

“Sure am! You remember where we met right? So so long ago? The Mystery Spot?” There was a teasing twist to the words that made Dean instinctively recoil.

“Yes.” Sammy’s voice was tight and angry.

“You remember the song that played every single morning? It was Asia’s ‘The Heat of the Moment’. And since that probably won’t convince you, I’m going to list the different ways I killed Dean until you believe that it’s me. The first time was a shotgun; the second was a car; third was a desk; fourth was choking; then a slip in the shower-” The list continued, and Dean could hear Sammy’s breathing growing shallow and panicky and he tried to push back against the numb feeling, his free hand rubbing at his throat but Gabriel wouldn’t stop listing gruesome, meaningless, random, cruel deaths until Sam broke.

“Enough! Christ, enough. I believe it. God, you’re as big an asshole as ever.”

Gabriel grinned, “Just being thorough Sam.”

“Whatever, let me talk to my brother again.”

The numbness was gone in a flash and Dean gripped the phone tightly, “Jesus, Sammy, what the hell was that?!”

Sam took a deep breath from the other end of the phone, “It’s okay Dean. It’s something only the actual Gabriel would know. God that was weird though. When will you get back?”

“Uh..day and a half I think, got a few hours tomorrow to get to Elysian Fields, and then just the drive back,” he answered, not entirely satisfied with that.

“What’s Elysian Fields?”

“It’s where he faced Lucifer, Sam,” Dean answered, feeling a swirl of dark emotion from the arch angel clenching his gut, “We’re going to get his vessel.”

Sam made a puzzled sound, “Okay, just…be careful okay? Things are still fine here, but who knows how long that will last?”

“Same, Sammy. Take care. I’ll uh, call you when we’re on the way back.” Dean hung up and tossed the phone aside and lay back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling silently. He hadn’t thought about Sammy’s experience with the Trickster in terms of it being Gabriel, not really. Sam didn’t like to talk about it and in the years since, it had just fallen into distant memory for him.

_Hey, Dean._

He sighed, having forgotten for a second that said Trickster was currently keeping residence in his brain. “Yeah?”

_Truth or Dare?_

“You’re like a child,” he rubbed his eyes frowning, “Fine, dare.”

_I dare you to jerk off._

Dean jumped off the bed as if he’d been electrocuted. “What?! No!” Gabriel cackled happily and despite himself Dean started to smile.

_Oh c’mon! I’m freezing your balls are so blue! Loosen up a little – we’ll both enjoy it!_

Dean started laughing now, shaking his head, “God you pervert – no!”

The archangel laughed even harder, _I’m not the one bringing up my dad while I’m trying to make him jerk off. You got some kinks, don’tcha Winchester?_

Gabriel’s mirth made Dean’s spike and soon he was doubled over, laughing harder than he could remember in recent years, “You’d—you’d probably like that wouldn’t you?!”

Dean was treated to a mental image of Gabriel made up with his ridiculous fake porn stash and waggling his eyebrows. _Probably._

Any hope of keeping his composure was gone, and Dean wound up falling back on the bed, sides aching as he damn near giggled with mirth. “Ah..okay, stoppit,” he gasped, “Let me catch my breath… pick a different dare.”

_Okay, uh…I dare you to think about your most embarrassing moment in high school._

Unbidden the memory of gym shorts getting lost in a vicious basketball game directly in front of the cutest cheerleader that Dean had ever seen and the burn of humiliation that followed. That night, he’d begged John to take them to the next town early. Gabriel was laughing again, but died down when he seemed to realize that Dean hadn’t joined him. _Well…that took a turned out to be a boner killer – your turn_ , his voice turning apologetic.

Dean took a breath and swallowed, “Truth or dare.”

_Truth._

Gabriel didn’t seem like the type to pull his punches, so Dean asked the first real question that came to him, “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

_Shit, we are too sober for this. Go check out the mini-fridge._

They were in agreement there, so Dean rolled to his feet and cracked open the fridge, peering in. There were a few beers that would do nicely, and a small whisky, which Dean opened first and took a swallow of. Gabriel didn’t answer until Dean had grabbed a beer and settled back on the bed, but he didn’t push him; he could feel the archangel thinking – which was still somewhat disorienting.

_I let my older brother into the Garden of Eden._

Dean choked on his beer, “You what?! Why?”

Gabriel’s voice was quieter than Dean had ever heard it, _Because he was my brother, and he asked me to._

This time the memory that came up was not Dean’s, though he felt everything about it. He remembered knowing that it was against the rules to speak to Lucifer, but also loving him so much. He could feel how much Gabriel looked up to his older brother, and really what could it hurt to let Lucifer into the garden one last time to say good-bye? He knew with certainty in his heart that his brother wasn’t _truly_ evil.

“Whoa…that’s heavy,” he took a long drink of the beer.

_You’re telling me._

“This game sucks; what say we heat up that casserole, eat our feelings, and watch tonight’s episode of Dr. Sexy.”

Dean felt Gabriel’s dark mood lift a little. _You’re good people, Winchester._

* * *

They woke late the following morning; it was the sunlight hitting his eyes that finally did it. Dean stretched and yawned rubbing his eyes, “I think I could see your dreams?” He had vague memories of a jack russell terrier and a chocolate fountain.

 _Your cheese-fueled nightmares weren’t much better,_ Gabriel grumbled back at him as he packed up their few items and went to check out.

It was an uneventful drive the rest of the way to the Elysian Fields Motel. Gabriel made himself reappear next to Dean in the passenger seat again to play with the radio and generally just comment on the lives of all the other drivers around them. He started rating their sins on a scale of ‘lame to whoa’.

A little before 3pm they pulled off the freeway and approached the burned out husk where the motel had stood. Dean gave a low whistle at the destruction, “Your vessel is still here? How could he have survived this?”

“What are you talking about? I’m right here, we’re just picking up the meat suit,” Gabriel answered, gesturing at the building.

Dean frowned, “That’s not nice, man. I mean, the guy had like a family or something, and you let him get stabbed in the chest and just left him in a burning building? I thought Jimmy got it rough with Cas, but this is a new level of crappy deals.”

The archangel gave Dean a truly baffled look, “What the hell are you talking abou—oh my god, you think I possessed someone!” And started crowing laughter so hard that he doubled over and promptly vanished.

“What just happened here?” Dean asked the empty air, frowning and feeling like he’d missed something.

 _Good Lord, that was so funny I lost my concentration there,_ Gabriel answered in his mind. _Let’s go, I’ll explain while we walk. I don’t have a family line of people to possess_ , he told Dean while he picked his way carefully through the wreckage, _I never have._

“So what, you made this body?”

 _Exactly right; I never liked the idea of just, I dunno, basically erasing someone just to get my rocks off on earth, so I learned how to make my own._ Gabriel’s voice turned smug, _that’s why I’m so devastatingly handsome._

Dean snorted at that, kicking a door open and then recoiling at the smell of rotting meat, “Ah God!” he covered his nose with the back of his forearm and stepped slowly in, “I think we found you…what’s left of it.”

_Aw poor meat suit…_

Gabriel’s remains were pretty hard to look at, the years since the apocalypse had taken their toll, leaving very little flesh left on the bones, the clothes tattered from mildew and insects. Beneath the putrefaction though, Dean could just make out the image of wings burned into the ground and it gave him pause. “You really did die, didn’t you?”

_It wouldn’t be much of a trick if I spoiled the secret, now would it? Let’s get it fixed up, mind if I drive for a moment?_

“What? Oh! Uh, sure I guess.” And just like that, Dean found himself in the backseat of his own body. It was surprisingly pleasant? He wondered idly if it felt like this for anyone possessed by an angel, or if Gabriel was being careful with him. Would Michael have been so kind? He watched as Gabriel cracked his knuckles and walked towards the rotting body, humming to himself.

There was a shift in the room, wind kicking up, and Dean could taste ozone on the air as Gabriel squatted down over the skeleton and held his hands out. For the first time, Dean truly experienced angelic power. He watched as Gabriel pulled matter from the surrounding area, knitting the body back together with a deft hand. The colors of rot faded and and were replaced with the fresh bright crimson of new blood as oxygen infused the cells once again. Skin and hair returned next, and Dean felt Gabriel’s swell of pride at his work as he rebuilt the planes of his own face.

“What do you say, Dean-o?” he murmured with a smile as he worked, as if he were sharing something intimate with Dean, “Green eyes this time?” And Dean could see the color of the irises shift before the body’s eyes were covered in eyelids. “And since this is a reboot anyways… might as well make a few more updates.”

He laughed as he watched the archangel work. _All you did was add some scruff and make your jacket black_ , he thought towards him and felt Gabriel grin.

“Can’t really improve on perfection, can you? Hair’s longer too.” When he finished, Gabriel’s body was lying as if asleep on the newly clean floor, and the archangel knelt down and leaned over his own face, “Only one last step.”

_You’re not going to kiss yourself, are you?_

“You wish,” Gabriel teased him, but did nothing to convince Dean otherwise as he carefully took hold of his vessel’s head and tipped his chin up. The vessel’s lips parted, and Gabriel lowered Dean’s head until only a small fraction of space kept them apart, then he took a deep lung-filling breath and exhaled a blinding white light.

When the spots cleared from his eyes, Dean realized that he was still knelt over Gabriel’s vessel, cradling his head gently. Except now, he was looking into bright green eyes that sparkled with life and a positively wicked smile.

“You still kinda want to kiss me, don’t you?” Gabriel teased, shifting on the ground to tuck his arms beneath his head as Dean sat back up. “It’s okay, it’s a natural urge.”

Dean laughed and grinned back, still feeling somewhat giddy with their success, “We actually did it. You’re back.”

The archangel sat up and spread his arms wide, “Don’t call it a comeback, bucko. And don’t act so surprised, there was no way to fail!”

He snorted a little at that, getting to his feet and then offering Gabriel his hand, “We usually manage to find a way to screw things up anyway.”

Gabriel stood and clapped him on the shoulder, “Well cheer up, Dean; your luck’s about to change. You’ve got an archangel on your team now.”

He blinked at that, “You’re going to stick around? You’re actually going to help us deal with the Darkness?” Dean couldn’t keep himself from sounding skeptical; sure he’d hoped for Gabriel’s help, but he’d assumed that he would simply vanish - ever the trickster.

Gabriel’s expression sobered, and he shrugged as they made their way back out to the impala, “I’ve tried running, and I’ve tried hiding; maybe you and Sammy are onto something with this whole ‘family sticks together’ schtick?” Dean gave him a good natured punch in the shoulder which earned him a grin. “Besides, I can’t stand to exist in a world where Dean Winchester is more emotionally mature than I am.”

Dean laughed at that, pulling out his keys and slipping into the driver’s seat, “Fair enough; Sam and Cas aren’t gonna believe it when I call ‘em tonight. We’ll be able to kick this thing’s ass back wherever it came from.”

Gabriel settled into the passenger seat and immediately started playing with the radio again. “Easy with the ego stroking bud, I’m not a magic bullet,” he cautioned Dean, “We’ve got a lot to do before we can lock the Darkness away, and you’re not gonna like it.”

Dean gave him a glance, “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Gabriel waved his hands and a pair of sunglasses appeared in them, which he slipped with a flourish before declaring, “We’ve got to break open the Cage and release my brothers.”

* * *

 About a week after the house purification ritual, Gracie Grimby answered a knock on her door to discover her casserole dish sitting on her doormat, perfectly clean and with a bouquet of dark pink roses resting upon it. There was a small note tucked into them that read simply, “Sorry for throwing your bible! <3<3”

 


	2. Country Roads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind words - the idea wouldn't leave me alone, so here we are - working on a full AU season.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

“So wait,” Gabriel’s voice was dubious as he looked over at Dean from the passenger seat, “You’re telling me that in all your years of being a road warrior, you’ve never tried scrapple?” They’d only been on a road an hour or so since leaving Elysian Fields, when Gabriel had grown bored and started playing ‘Never Have I Ever’ - and had been locked in a tie for the past ten minutes.

Dean grinned at him and shook his head, “Nope, I have never tried scrapple. I just prefer a good burger every time - you can’t go wrong with that.”

The archangel scoffed, “You sure as shit can at breakfast time, Dean. I don’t believe you - you’re cheating.”

He scowled back at the blond, “I am not! You’re just mad I won!”

Gabriel huffed and reached for Dean’s cell phone, “I’m pretty sure missing out on scrapple means you’re the _loser_ , but I’m still going call Sam to confirm.”

Dean laughed and waved a hand in permission as the other dialed, “Go right ahead and call - I have nothing to hide!” The archangel put the call on speaker and held the phone between them as it rang. Looking ahead of them, down the road, Dean took note of a distant plume of black smoke on the horizon - small brushfire maybe? It had a been a dry summer.

_“Hello?”_ Sam’s voice cut through his musings.

“Hey Sammy!” both Dean and Gabriel answered together and there was a brief pause on the other end of the phone.

_“….I guess that means things went well?”_ his little brother finally replied.

“What? Oh yeah, my body - it went peachy, Sam; Dean was very tender with me,” Gabriel rattled back while Dean rolled his eyes. “Anyways, I have a very important question for you.”

_“Yeah? What’s that?”_

“Has Dean ever eaten scrapple?” There was another very long pause.

_“…Has Dean ever eaten scrapple?”_ Sam repeated the words slowly as if that would help him make sense of them.

There was a rustling over the phone, and then a distant confused voice, _“What’s scrapple?”_

Sammy sighed, _“I’ll explain in a second, Cas. Uh, no, Gabriel, I don’t think Dean’s ever had scrapple.”_

“Ha!” Dean barked in triumph while Gabriel frowned, “I told you!”

There was more rustling over the phone line, _“Is that Dean? With Gabriel? Let me talk to them.”_

_“Yeah, sure Cas - easy - here you go.”_ The phone was passed with a soft clatter of plastic.

_“Gabriel? Are you there?”_ Castiel's voice held a rare note of hesitation, and Dean’s heart just broke a little for the guy.He usually tried not to think too hard about what the angel had been through these past few years - it usually made him either want to scream or cry.

Gabriel’s face had softened at the sound of the familiar voice, “Hi Castiel; yeah it’s really me. Dean helped me get my vessel back.”

There was a choked exhale over the phone, like the battered angel was torn between a laugh or a sob before he took a breath and started again, _“Are you in the Impala? I’ll come right there-“_

“No no,” Gabriel cut him off quickly, “You stay there with Sam; I don’t want to attract any angelic attention, okay?”

Castiel grumbled slightly, _“Alright, but you are coming back with Dean?”_

He smiled softly at the hope in the other’s voice, “Yeah, bud. I promise.”

The phone clattered again and Sam’s voice returned, _“Guys, this is great and all but what exactly is our play here?”_ Gabriel looked up at Dean with his eyebrows raised in a silent question; Dean shook his head sharply - he wanted to explain the archangel’s insane plan in person. The blond frowned at him in apparent disapproval and nodded towards the phone; Dean shook his head again and mouthed ‘ _no_ ’ emphatically. _“Uh…Dean? You there?”_ Sam asked again.

“We’ve got to bust Michael and Lucifer out of the cage, Sam, okay good talk - call you later - byyyee,” Gabriel rattled off suddenly in a single breath. Dean’s jaw dropped.

_“YOU’RE WHA-“_ Gabriel hung up the phone.

Dean had to look at the freeway before he killed himself trying to throttle an archangel, “What the hell was that?! Why did you do that?!”

Gabriel put the phone back down with a shrug, “Oh like keeping secrets has always worked out so well? Look, he can be mad at me when we get back to the bat cave and then you two can talk it out. No big deal.”

Dean wanted to be angry at the archangel, but really couldn’t argue with that logic so he settled for a displeased huff as he settled back down the worn leather of the driver’s seat. The column of smoke was getting closer, and he frowned as he realized it must be closer to the highway than he’d previously thought. “I was just trying to…I dunno, Sam’s got a history with Lucifer,” he finally said into the quiet car.

Gabriel looked back over at him, “You’re trying to protect your kid brother; I get that. But it’s going to suck regardless and now he’s got extra time to process it.” He looked back out to the road and grinned, “Look - Irv’s Buck-Stop Truck Stop in two miles! We gotta stop for a minute.”

“What? Why, we just filled the tank?” Dean answered.

“Yes, but they will have scrapple,” he explained with a wave of his hand, “I’m going to blow your mind, Dean Winchester.”

Dean laughed softly, “I really sincerely doubt that.” The phone rang again, and Gabriel picked it back up, hitting the speaker button again - Sam was already talking.

_“That was a joke right? You’re not serious? We can’t let those psychos out - they’ll just start the Apocalypse again!”_

“Not a joke; super serious; yes I can; and no they won’t,” the archangel answered smoothly.

Sam sputtered helplessly for a moment and Dean took pity on him, “We’ll talk to the whole thing out when we get back, Sammy. We’re not doing anything yet without you and Cas.”

Gabriel gave Dean a wicked grin, “Yeah, right now I’ve got bigger fish to fry. I’m gonna pop your brother’s scrapple cherry!”

_“…Wha-?”_

_“What’s a scrapple cherry?”_ Castiel’s gruff voice cut in again suddenly and Dean choked so hard on a guffaw that the impala swerved a little in her lane.

_“Jesus, Cas where did you come from?!”_

Gabriel cackled with glee as Dean grabbed the phone from him, “Don’t worry about it, Cas - we’re just making a quick pit stop. We’ll bring you some scrapple too.”

“You want to…pop…my scrapple cherry too?” Castiel asked in such a perfectly curious Cas way that Dean grinned and nodded while Sam groaned in the background. Gabriel was laughing so hard, he’d gone on silent, holding a hand to his mouth while he shook with mirth.

“You got it buddy. Okay, we’ll call you later.” Dean hung up the cell phone again, then made the mistake of making eye contact with Gabriel and the two started laughing again.

Until they drove up to the burning truck stop.

 

* * *

 

The diesel station at Irv’s Buck Stop Truck Stop was still belching black smoke as the fire department worked to contain it. They could see a few people loitering around watching as they pulled off the highway. “Guess we’re out of luck, huh?” Dean commented, brow furrowing as he surveyed the scene.

Gabriel wore a similar expression and he lifted his sunglasses to rest on the top of his head, “Not so fast - my spider-senses are tingling. Go ahead and park.”

Dean was unconvinced but pulled into an open spot in front of the small diner, “You think this has to do with us?”

“Yeah, there’s something…huh, the shadows are wrong,” the archangel answered as he climbed out of the Impala.

“Oh?” Dean thought about that as he followed, tucking his keys into his pocket. “Wrong how? Is that some kinda angel-vision?”

Gabriel shrugged a little and looked at Dean from behind his sunglasses, “Sure, let’s call it angel-vision.”

The pair walked past the small diner towards a couple who had just finished speaking to a few firemen. Both in their early fifties and of Middle Eastern decent, they leaned heavily on each other for comfort as they looked up to greet Dean and Gabriel. “I hope you’re not looking for diesel,” the man said with a tight smile which Dean returned.

“No, thanks we’re good,” he said, tucking his hands in his pockets, “Just curious what happened.” Gabriel was uncharacteristically silent at Dean’s side; he lifted his sunglasses back up and looked around thoughtfully. “Are you, uh, Irv?” Dean asked the man.

Both he and his wife smiled, “No, I’m Abdul and this is my wife, Surma - we bought the place from Irv about fifteen years ago.”

He offered his hand to Abdul, who shook it firmly, “Dean; it’s a pleasure. Ma’am,” he nodded politely to Surma before gesturing to the archangel. “This is Gabriel; I’m hoping we can be of help.”

Gabriel looked back to couple with a polite smile, “As-salāmu ʿalaykum.”

Both Abdul and Surma smiled in pleasant surprise, and Surma replied, “Wa ʿ alaykumu s-salām; do you both work in insurance?”

Dean turned on his most charming grin and lifted his hands up, “You caught us - we’re just passing through but wanted to offer to help since it can be tough to navigate.”

Gabriel tucked his sunglasses away and nodded in agreement, picking up the lie easily, “Especially if you noticed any unusual things happening lately; it’s easier to think of them now before they get fuzzy with time.”

The couple shared a long glance and then Abdul motioned for the two of them to follow, “Why don’t we tell you over some food? It’s the least we can do for your help.”

As they walked away, Dean looked over to Gabriel and whispered, “How’d you know they were muslim?” Gabriel just smirked and waggled his brows at him before following the couple. Dean scowled and turned to follow, then huffed and rolled his eyes when he noticed the large display in the window advertising the only halal diner for 50 miles.

The four settled at a booth inside the diner, with Gabriel making a big scene of ordering the turkey scrapple for Dean and a milkshake for himself. After the server had left them, Surma took a deep breath and leaned forward, “We didn’t tell the fire department about this because we have no proof but…” She shared a quick look with Abdul, who nodded her to continue, “We believe that the truck was…empty, when it was driven into the diesel pumps.”

Dean tilted his head and sat forward, wrapping his hands around the warm mug of coffee, “Like it was left in neutral?”

Abdul shook his head, “No, we both heard the engine rev and saw the truck accelerate into the wreckage.”

The archangel made a thoughtful noise as he took a drink from his milkshake. “Like it was possessed?”

“Yes, exactly like that!” Surma agreed quickly, leaning forward and lowering her voice so that the other customers couldn’t hear her clearly, “There was this man, about a week ago - he made a lot of trouble for Abdul, kept rambling about a ‘darkness’, and then he vanished!” She spoke urgently, gesturing quickly with her hands to emphasize her points, “He abandoned his truck here for days, and then it drives itself into our filling station!”

Dean flashed a concerned look to Gabriel, who gave a small shrug in reply.

Abdul frowned a little and placed a hand on his wife’s arm to sooth her; he gave both Dean and Gabriel a somewhat sheepish look, “We know it sounds…insane, but - this man, Robert, was so disturbing…and disappeared so suddenly.”

Dean took a drink of his coffee and patted the table lightly as he stood up, “I don’t think it sounds insane, and I’ve got a piece of equipment in the car that will confirm it. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Gabriel saluted with his milkshake glass slightly, “Don’t take too long; scrapple don’t keep well cold.”

He stepped outside and headed for the Impala’s passenger side. Dean leaned down and pulled his small EMF reader from the dash compartment, then stood up and looked out at the horizon. The sun was just starting to lower towards sunset, shadows all around him were growing longer, reaching out towards…something. He turned around looked at the burned out shell of the diesel station, and for a brief moment - the shadows _were_ wrong, just as Gabriel had said. They were in inky solid black that no natural shadow could be, and they seemed _hungry_. Dean blinked, and the wrongness was gone - the long shadows were perfectly average and utterly unremarkable in the charred scene.

Walking over, Dean calibrated the EMF reader and held it up as he walked over. It lit up instantly, glowing red as he approached the destroyed truck; he tucked it into his back pocket and climbed up to look into the cab. It looked like Surma had been right - no cut seatbelt or remains indicating that the cab had been occupied when the crash happened. Hopping down, Dean turned and came face to face with the spectral form of a redneck.

“Whoa,” he gasped and jumped backwards, back hitting the truck door. “Robert?”

The ghost was looking Dean over eagerly, “There’s Darkness in you! I can see it! She’s touched you too!” It grinned a wide, beatific smile, “Oh praise Her name with me! Praise Her!”

“What? No!” He pushed himself off from the truck and past the ghost, who was currently holding his hand into the air as it continued to cry out.

“Praise Amara, who comes to heal this _rotten_ world! Do you think she liked my gift?” Robert spread his arms wide to show off the smoldering heap behind him.

Dean scowled, “A couple of thousand dollars of property damage is a shitty gift!”

The ghost’s expression darkened, “I gave Her a sacrifice of blood and a gift of smoke and shadow! I will be among Her chosen in the new holy land.” It started to advance on Dean, “C’mon son, let me show you the truth of the way…”

“Uh, no thank you!” He took off running back towards the dinner. Robert gave a snarl and gave chase, cold hands reaching for Dean’s jacket. Oh, he was really regretting not grabbing the iron bar from the truck; Sam was going to give him such shit for this…

Robert was right on his heels, Dean could feel it like a winter wind, and his breath started to puff out of his mouth in clouds - he was close though. If he could just get to the diner, he could call to Gabriel.

He didn’t have to - as Dean came sprinting towards the door, it flew open and Gabriel stepped out, shouting, “Hit the deck!” Throwing his hands up, Dean dropped to his knees and skidded into the archangel’s shins as Gabriel hurled the contents of an open salt shaker into the ghost’s face. Robert vanished with a scream, and Dean rolled onto his back on the pavement, panting. Gabriel looked down at him with a half smile, “Sooo…probably not a ghost, huh?”

Dean laughed breathlessly and held up a hand for Gabriel to pull him to his feet, “All signs point to a solid ‘maybe’.”

They were beset by Abdul and Surma when they stepped back inside, “What was that?! What you did?!”

He held up a hand to forestall their questions, “Let’s sit back down where it’s quiet and I’ll explain as best I can.” Once all four were seated again, and Dean had a plate of home fries and what could only be described as the most disturbing meatloaf he’d ever seen. “We’re not insurance agents,” he told their hosts while Gabriel poked at his arm to get him to eat, “We’re what’s called -dammit, stop-it! - We’re what’s called Hunters. And we deal with problems just like this.”

Abdul frowned, “You deal with ghosts?”

“And other things, but yeah, I have a lot of experience with ghosts.”

“Yeah, you looked like a real professional,” Gabriel drawled, reaching over his plate to steal a piece of potato.

“Shaddup,” he griped back, “and use a fork, you animal.”

Surma looked dismayed, “So what do we do? To get rid of the ghost?”

Gabriel stole another bite of food and made a contented sound, “I dunno about Dean-o here, but I’d be happy with a meal to go. These are good — is that harissa in here? Dean, you gotta try some of this.”

Surma smiled and Abdul suddenly shone with pride, “You noticed! They’re all my wife’s recipes!”

Dean took a forkful of food if only to shut Gabriel up and appease their hosts - then he groaned and took another bite, “Oh man - this is amazing! This is scrapple?!”

Abdul nodded, “Made with turkey, yes! If you get rid of the ghost, we’ll give you all the scrapple you can carry!”

Surma smiled and clasped her hands together, “Please let us know whatever you need.”

Gabriel cut a glance over to Dean, who was throughly enjoying his meal, “I think Dean’s going to need a minute alone with this plate.”

 

* * *

 

Back outside a few minutes later, Dean handed Gabriel an iron bar from the trunk. “Why didn’t you just zap the ghost of Deliverance back there?” he asked the archangel. “You guys can do that right? Just like…boot him out of existence?”

“Oh absolutely,” Gabriel agreed, stepping back and taking a few swings with the iron, “But that’s all celestial and I’d really prefer not to have anyone know that I’m in action until it’s absolutely necessary, so for now I’m going to try and be as low profile as possible.”

“Makes sense,” he replied, snagging a couple of tins of salt, “How are we going to find out where his body is? Don’t think he’ll want to tell us.”

The archangel made a thoughtful sound and looked around the gas station again, “No, but we don’t need him too - I can smell rot around here.”

Dean frowned a little in thought, “You can smell rot and see bad shadows; that’s not particularly human like, Mr Low Profile.”

Gabriel shrugged, “I may not be using my powers, but I’m not like you. Humans always seem to forget that… you see faces and humanity in everything, even chairs and light sockets.” He turned and gave Dean a serious look, “I’m not human, Dean. Never will be. And I see the world very differently than you.”

And wouldn’t that thought be something for Dean to dwell on later? “So where does that nose tell you we should look?” he asked. Gabriel looked from Dean up towards the roof of the diner pointedly; he looked as well and saw several crows looking back down at him. “Aw man, really?”

“Really,” Gabriel agreed and started heading for the ladder bolted to the building. “You got some garbage bags in the car? We’ll want to pull him down before we burn him.”

“Let me ask Abdul,” he replied.

After a few minutes, he was climbing the ladder with a few black garbage bags in his teeth when Gabriel called out to him over the edge. “Hey Dean, it’s uh…pretty disturbing. Just FYI.”

“Mmmfkay,” he garbled back as he crested the lip of the building. It was followed with a somewhat strangled, “Uuuuhgn…” as he recoiled at the sight. Bob the redneck ghost hadn’t been kidding about a sacrifice of blood. Bob had scrawled prayers to “Amara” and “The Darkness” all around one corner of the roof in sharpie, then…well, killed himself was the simplest way to put it.

Bob had seen fit to string his belt up around his neck and the support strut of a satellite dish, then dropped all of his weight forward onto it; he’d also sliced his arms open from top to bottom, leaving a sickly black pool of rotten blood around his feet and ankles. Dean’s lip curled in disgust as he walked over to stand next to Gabriel, tucking the garbage bags into his back pocket. “ That is messed up,” was all Dean managed to finally say.

The archangel’s expression is dark as he takes in the remains, “He left all of this for those nice people to deal with.” He turned to Dean, growling, “You can imagine if we hadn’t been here? Even if this…this _muck_ hadn’t seeped into the roof; just…they would have had to clean it.”

Seeing Gabriel so serious was a little unnerving, “Yeah, but we are here and we’re gonna take care of it.” He reached out and punched Gabriel lightly in the arm, making the archangel look over at him, “It’s what we do right?”

Gabriel blinked and his expression softened, as if he were reassessing Dean somewhat. “Yeah,” he answered with a slight nod, “yeah it is.”

“Okay, then let’s get to work,” Dean pulled a tin of salt out of the bag and used it to draw a circle around where they’d have to work to cut down Bob’s body and clean up. Fool him once, shame on Bob after all… Dean wasn’t about to get the drop on him again. It paid off as well because the ghost appeared just as he closed the circle.

“No! My offering!” it wailed as it circled around them, clawing at the barrier created by the salt. “Blasphemers! Heretics!”

“Oh shut-up,” Gabriel groused back at him, “Dean, grab one of the bags; I’m going to cut this asshole down.” Bob kept crying out nonsense as Dean knelt down to hold the garbage bag open at the corpse’s feet so that it fell into it once Gabriel cut the belt free. As they finished bagging the body, Dean turned to see Bob staring at him with a look of complete disbelief and betrayal.

“How can you bear to ignore Her love like this? She’s coming to save us!” he pleaded.

Dean scowled back at him, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” The ghost howled and hurled itself at the barrier again, flickering with fury.

“She’s touched you; I can see Her touch on you—“ The ghost was cut off when the iron bar swung out over Dean’s shoulder to banish him in a wisp of smoke again. Dean turned to look back at Gabriel who shrugged and handed him the bar. They gathered up whatever remaining items Robert had left into the garbage bags, and the archangel dropped them carefully over edge of the roof. Once done, they stood back to look at the gruesome, reeking mess.

“…We’re gonna need a lot of bleach,” Dean said with a sigh, wiping his hands on a rag he’d found nearby. Dean was just making a mental note to ask Abdul about any motels in the area, when Gabriel huffed a frustrated breath and gave a quick, jerking motion with his hand. The rooftop was spotless; even the graffiti and stains on Dean’s jeans were cleaned away with a soft gust of clean air. He looked to Gabriel in surprise, “Weren’t you—?”

“Shaddup,” he answered back, his mouth turning to a smile even if his voice sounded a little tense.

“But didn’t you say..?”

“I know what I said,” he answered with a huff, rubbing his eyes, “but it’s getting late, we’ve still got to burn him, and he was asshole, so I don’t want even a molecule to remain of what he did. It wasn’t enough power to raise any alarms, so just…drop it.” The archangel waved a finger at Dean as he started back down the ladder.

“Hey I appreciate it,” he answered, following him. “You uh…maybe want to zap his body too?”

Gabriel shook his head and gave the garbage bag a little kick, “No, it’s better to do somethings the slow way.”

Abdul and Surma walked slowly over once they’d finished packing the bag into the backseat of the Impala. Abdul looked a little green, and swallowed hard as he looked up to the roof, “I won’t ask what you found up there…”

Dean patted his shoulder reassuringly, “It’s better that way, but we’re almost done - we’ll take the remains a ways down the highway where we’ll salt and burn them. That will exorcise Robert.”

Surma stepped forward, setting her shoulders and tightening her, though she was pale with fear, “How do we protect ourselves in the future? We…never believed in ghosts…”

Gabriel stepped forward and handed her the iron bar, “Iron will disperse them, for a little while, and they can’t cross barriers of salt, even if it’s buried. That will protect you, while you call us.” And he nodded to Dean who took the hint and offered a fake business card to Abdul who read it with a smile.

“Springsteen?”

Dean grinned, “Well, the number’s real at least.”

“And we have this for you,” Abdul answered, offering him a small travel cooler, “We promised you scrapple and are more than happy to deliver. You’ve done us a great service.”

“HEATHENS!” the otherworldly screech caught Dean completely by surprise, and he jumped back, clutching the cooler to his chest as Robert’s ghost charged at them from the back of the car. Surma gave an angry scream back and swung the iron bar with all of her strength - the ghost vanished again in an impotent puff. Gabriel gave her a look of appreciation while she stood stunned and panting lightly.

“Remind me never to cross you,” he told her.

The older woman huffed and lowered the bar to hold it more like a cane, “I wasn't going to let him disrespect our home again.”

Abdul reached out to pull Surma into his side, leaning down to kiss her temple with an affection, “My lioness.” Then he stood and offered both Dean and Gabriel a hand shake, “Thank you again, my friends; we’re blessed that you arrived when you did.”

The archangel gave him a firm handshake back and nodded, “Well, you know what they say about Him and mysterious ways.”

“Take care of yourselves,” Dean told him as they headed for the car, “we’ll stop by again next time we’re in the neighborhood.”

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, Dean looked out over the flat shadowed land while Bob’s last remains finished smoldering. Gabriel was looking at the stars and humming ‘We Didn’t Start The Fire’ to himself. “You think he really was touched by the Darkness? Does she want to be worshipped?”

Gabriel grew silent a moment then turned to look at Dean, his green eyes reflecting the low orange of the embers, “You tell me. She’s touched you as well.”

He wondered suddenly, how much Gabriel knew about that; knew how much Dean continued to think about her. It wasn’t a thought he felt like sharing, so he looked away first, toeing the ground with his boot. “Let’s get going; we’ll have to drive all night to get back home tonight. Castiel’s going to want to try the scrapple tomorrow.”

Gabriel laughed and started shoveling dirt back over the coals, “You mean you want to pop his scrapple cherry?”

Dean guffawed in surprise, “Jesus…”

“Just promise you’ll be gentle, Dean-o,” Gabriel continued, clapping him on the back as they headed for the Impala, “he’s like a kid brother to me.”

“I should have left you on the mantle.”


	3. Party on, Garth!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Sam and Castiel on board with Gabriel's plan - the group realize they need some help from an old friend, who needs a little of his own as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I seem to love writing conversations with upwards of three characters in them? @_@

The air was wet and heavy in Edison, Georgia, when Charlie Radley climbed to the top of the baptist church just before sunset and started singing. The choir heard the noise and came running outside; they all gathered at the base of the steps and shouted up at him while the choir director, Mr. Lyons, started scrambling to grab the discarded ladder Charlie had left behind.

“Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away,” Charlie was singing out with all his heart, tear tracks visible on his face, “Now it looks as though they’re here to stay.” Sirens began to wail in the direction of the police station as the choir members called for help - some on their cell phones, and some with their hands in the air, pleading with Charlie to hold on. Mr. Lyons and a few other men had gotten the long, old aluminum ladder back up and it clattered against the roof with a bang that made Charlie flinch even as he kept singing. “Suddenly, I’m not half the man I used to be,” his voice was cracking with despair, and a sympathetic wail came up from the choir below in a bizarre harmony, “There’s a shadow hanging over me…”

Mr. Lyons was just at the top of the roof, and he and Charlie locked eyes for a heart-stopping moment before the young man started sprinting and leapt from the roof’s edge with all the strength he had.

 

* * *

 

The four men sat around the dining table silently with empty plates and beer bottles filling the open surface between them. Sam was sitting with his head in his hands while Gabriel and Castiel both gave Dean the same questioning look. He held up a finger and nodded that they should give Sam a minute - if he knew Sam’s inner drama queen as well as he thought he did… His little brother’s fingers curled to grip his long hair and Dean smiled - here we go.

“Okay this plan is completely insane, and I can’t even believe I’m sitting here to listen to it!” Sam finally exclaimed with a heavy breath, lifting his head back up and reaching out for his beer, only to pout when he found it empty. “You can’t fight fire with fire and you can’t fight an apocalypse with an apocalypse!”

Dean was already on his way back with four more beers - which he passed out as he sat back down. Both Sam and Gabriel looked somewhat grateful for the refill, while Castiel looked a little baffled, but nonetheless pleased to be included. “Sammy, if you have any other real ideas for how to deal with Amara, then I would love to hear them.”

His brother blinked, “Amara?”

Dean paused mid-swallow, his throat tightening for a moment, but Gabriel answered smoothly, “It’s what the ghost called The Darkness; I believe that’s its name.”

“Uh yeah,” Dean agreed, trying not to cough and when Sam raised a curious eyebrow at him, he scowled, “What? That freak had written all over the roof too.”

“Okay fine,” Sam relented, “I’m listening; what’s the plan, Gabriel?”

The archangel took a deep drink of his beer, and then cracked his knuckles dramatically, “It’s actually really simple. We get a skeleton key, spring Michael and Lucifer, and then rally Heaven and Hell to join forces to lock The Darkness back in her box.” He finished with a small flourish of his hands, as if expecting applause and Dean couldn’t help a small choked laugh at how dubious both Castiel and Sam looked at this. “I am sensing a _little_ disbelief here, and I am insulted by it,” he said primly, putting his hands back down - Dean laughed harder and Gabriel shot him a quick wink as he took another swig, the corners of his lips just hinting at a smirk as he swallowed. Dean’s brain short circuited in a way it hadn’t since he was fifteen, but he quickly pushed the intrusive thoughts away as Castiel cleared his throat.

The dark haired angel leaned forward with a thoughtful frown, holding the cold bottle between his hands, “But you’ve seen how fractured Heaven is right now - I don’t see how they could align with Hell if they can’t even align with each other.”

Sam turned to Castiel, “Aren’t you getting the cart before the horse? Why would Michael and Lucifer even agree to this to begin with?”

“Because as much as they may hate humanity, they’re both pretty attached to existing,” Gabriel answered, “And we’re not just going to give them both get out of jail free cards and hope for the best. We’re going to bind them until they can play nice.”

It was Dean’s turn to jump in, “Bind them to what?”

“Their vessels; make them human for a little for lack of a better word.”

Sam’s voice grew hushed, “You can do that? You can make them human?”

“If they’re human then anyone could just kill them,” Castiel interjected.

Gabriel held his hands up to quiet them, “It’s dangerous, yes, and we’ll have to protect them, but I just…” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “It will force them both to have a different perspective on the world.”

Even Dean was growing a little skeptical of Gabriel’s plan now, “What makes you think some group therapy and walking a mile in our shoes crap is going to change the Devil and God’s second in command?”

The archangel looked back at him, “Let’s call it a gut feeling.”

Sam scoffed and grabbed his beer, sitting back in his chair, but Castiel only grew more serious, eyes widening slightly, “Divine intuition.”

Both Winchesters looked to Castiel with identical unimpressed expressions, “What?”

The angel looked at both of them in turn as he explained, “It’s not as clear as prophesy, but it’s a small part of God, of our Father, in all angels. It’s…it’s like a diving rod, telling you which path to take. If Gabriel feels it…then I trust in his plan.”

Dean frowned and shared a long look with Sam, then sighed, “You’re telling me that all we have to go on with this plan is _faith_?” He couldn’t help the small sneer over the word.

Sam’s expression softened and grew thoughtful again; he finally sighed and looked back at his brother across the table from him and shrugged a little, “We’ve done worse things on less.”

Dean sighed, but smiled at his little brother and lifted his bottle, “So we’re gonna do this then?” Sammy and Gabriel both lifted their bottles, with Castiel following their lead a moment later. Dean initiated the toast, “To faith.”

All four bottles clinked together.

 

* * *

 

 

“So!” Gabriel began, emphatically smacking a few file down onto the long table scattered with their attempts at research, “We’re already fucked.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “We’re not fucked; our information’s just a little out of date.”

“I really thought that finding a skeleton key was going to be the easiest part out of all of this,” the archangel whined, falling back into a chair and letting his legs splay out. “We can’t find any records for good skeleton keys less than 70 years old.”

Sam looked over to Dean, “What about Garth? You’ve still got his number, right?”

Dean, who was currently working on reaching farming level 8 in Stardew Valley, realized he was being spoken too and hastily paused and looked up from his laptop, “Yep? Huh? What’s that?”

Sam rolled his eyes, “ _Garth_ ; do you still have his number?”

“Oh—Oh! Yeah, good idea!” He dug his cell out of his pocket and started looking through his contacts.

“You should be maximizing your artisan good output.”

Dean flinched at the sudden voice by his ear and slammed his laptop shut, turning around, “Where did you even come from?!” he huffed at Castiel, “We gotta put a bell on you or something.”

Castiel’s brow furrowed, “Your farm could be much more productive, Dean.” Sam started smirking and Dean could feel the heat of embarrassment crawling up his throat.

“Just…just shut up about my farm,” he muttered, hitting the call button on his phone. “Go manage your own farm…”

Castiel took his seat by Gabriel again, “I am - my hens are consistently producing large eggs all winter.”

Mercifully, Garth answered the phone, “Hello?” There was a weird quality to his voice, but, hey, it _was_ Garth.

“Hey it’s Dean-“

“Is it me you’re looking for?” Garth’s voice continued, crooning the familiar song in his warbly voice.

“Uh…yeah, Garth, it’s Dean Winchester.”

“Hello! I’ve just got to let you know…” The others were watching him now, curious by Dean’s end of the conversation and his blank, confused expression, so he put the phone down and hit the speaker button. “‘Cause I wonder where you are..” Garth was still singing.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he stood up to move closer to the phone, “Hey Garth, what’s up buddy?”

“Trouble! Oh we got trouble,” Garth changed the tune like a record skipping, “With a capital T that rhymes with P…”

“Okay okay,” Sam broke in, managing to quiet him, “Where are you?”

“Georgia…Geeoooorgia!” a new song, “No peace I find!”

The four around the table shared a look, and then Sam’s computer pinged and he looked over, “Garth’s messaging me.” His expression suddenly grew intent and serious, “He says he’s trying to deal with a Trickster in Edison, Georgia - it’s making all the town’s people compulsively sing and act out their emotions…”

“Let’s hear it for the boy!” Garth sang out happily over the line which surprised a guffaw out of Dean.

Sam frowned at him and grabbed the phone, “Send us the address, Garth and we’ll head out there. Talk soon.” Hanging up, he tossed the phone back to Dean, “We should divide and conquer - we don’t need all four of us going to Georgia.”

Dean nodded, “Agreed, so how do you want to split us up?”

Sam shrugged, “Well no one knows more about Tricksters than Gabriel, and you’re not _actually_ researching anything, so you two go and Castiel and I will keep looking for anything we can find on skeleton keys.”

Dean chose to take the high road and not acknowledge his brother’s tone, turning to Castiel, “Don’t let him give you any attitude, Cas; he just gets cranky when he misses his yoga.” The road wasn’t very high.

Castiel nodded solemnly, “I’ll make sure we do yoga every day then.”

 

* * *

 

The first day of driving was smooth and calm; Gabriel kept up a steady text conversation with Garth - making sure that the hunter hasn’t rushing into trouble while they drove. The archangel would also periodically call Garth to ask him a question when when couldn’t find any music he liked on the radio - though he let the game go once he realized the poor guy’s voice was cracking from overuse.

The second day, they got just a few miles south of Montgomery before Dean called it and declared that he needed one more night’s sleep before dealing with a Trickster or Garth. Gabriel teased him for not powering through, but seemed content enough once Dean parked at a motel that happened to have a lively dive bar called the Appaloosa right next door. They’d started out together at a booth, but after Dean had ordered dinner, Gabriel started making eyes with a young woman at the bar who started making eyes right back at him.

The archangel gave him a grin as he stood up from the table, “I’ll catch you later Dean-o; looks like I’ve got some plans for tonight.”

Dean laughed and waved him off, but couldn’t help but steal a few glances at the pair as Gabriel nearly seduced her right over the bar top. And in all honesty, when he watched the archangel’s hand move across the exposed skin beneath the girl’s crop top with clear intent, Dean wasn’t entirely sure which of the two he was more envious of.

He finished his meal and, feeling exhausted and somewhat older than he’d like to admit, left Gabriel to his fun and walked back towards their motel room and his bed.

That night, Dean dreamt of a darkness. It wasn’t anything like the dark, shadowy places that he’d grown up knowing; there were no monsters here, no evil intentions, and no sadistic needs. Dean felt…safe. He felt enveloped and held in a soothing embrace. It reminded him of nearly forgotten hugs from his mother, or going back to sleep on a quiet morning, buried in blankets.

He longed to stay in this place; where it was quiet and warm. Company was all Dean could want for, and the thought became action in the dream. He reached out into the darkness and felt his fingers catch with another’s, tangling into an embrace. Dean pulled the soft figure close and nuzzled into the space between neck and shoulder.

He sighed and smiled, breathing out “Amara…” then woke with a jolt, sitting up in his bed, feeling waves of longing and fear as he tried to clear his head and eventually get back to sleep.

Dean woke to insistent knocking some hours later; he shuffled out of bed and pulled a shirt on over his head before making it over to the door. He snagged a pistol from the dining table, and held it cocked as he cracked open the door with the chain still latched. “Yeah?” he growled, ready to berate whoever it was.

“You look like shit.” He shut the door on Gabriel and put the gun back down while the archangel whined from outside. “Oh c’mon, don’t be like that! I have coffee! And breakfast!” Dean rubbed his eyes, but relented when his stomach growled, and he finished unlocking the door to let Gabriel in. The blond was all smiles and a bounce in his step as he walked in and put the coffee and bag of food on the table. “You do look like hell though; you have a rough night, Dean-o?”

“Shaddup,” he muttered, heading for the bathroom heading for the shower.

“You should have hung around last night! Scarlett and I would’ve loved the company!” Gabriel called through the door while Dean debated just banging his head against the tiles until he blacked out.

 

* * *

 

Some hours later, they pulled into the small rural town of Edison. Garth was parked and waiting for them in the lot of the Dollar General. He threw his arms out wide and grinned when he saw Dean exit the car. “Oh my God, we’re back again!” he sang happily and pulled a startled Dean into an enthusiastic hug. “Brothers, sisters, everybody sing!”

Whatever Dean intended to say was lost when he opened his mouth to greet Garth and Thin Lizzy came out instead, “Guess who just got back today? Them wild-eyed boys that had been away.” He shot an alarmed look to Gabriel who looked entirely too delighted by this turn of events.

Garth just laughed and clapped Dean on his shoulder. “The boys are back in town,” he agreed,then pulled out a post-it note and scribbled on it. “It’s down at the end of Lonely Street,” he sang absently as he wrote, “It’s the Heartbreak Hotel.” Dean was handed a post it with Garth’s neat handwriting with the address for the Lonesome Trail Motor Lodge. He scoffed and put the address into his phone; it was a few miles outside of the town.

“Hit the road Jack,” he called to Garth as he headed back for the Impala. Garth saluted and jumped into his car as well, taking the lead of their little caravan as they left town again.

About 20 minutes later, they pulled into the small motor lodge and Garth hopped out of his little car, stretching and twisting his back with a groan. “Oh man, it is good to get back outta there!” he said as he walked over, “I had no idea I knew so many songs, you know?” He approached Gabriel for the first time, offering his hand, “Hey man, you must be Gabe, the trickster expert.”

The archangel grinned and shook his hand firmly, “Good to meet you; how you holding up?”

“Oh it’s not so bad when you expect it - I’m a little surprised the trickster hasn’t upped the ante yet, you know? We’re only about three and half miles from the Town Center.”

“How’d you figure out the range?” Dean asked as they all headed into Garth’s motel room.

“Yesterday; things were quiet, so I figured I’d just start driving until I stopped singing - thankfully it wasn’t far. You guys want a beer?” When both men agreed that they did, he headed for the fridge.

Once Garth had passed out the bottles and taken a seat himself, Dean took a drink and then looked at the younger man, “So how you been, Garth? How’s uh..how’s the _pack_?” He couldn’t help the inflection on his words there - it was still weird to think about a band of hippie werewolves.

Garth bobbed his head as he took a deep swallow, “Oh they’re all just fine! But…” the werewolf sighed, “A lot of really bad things are still happening to innocent people, and I realized that I couldn’t ignore that.” Gabriel had sat forward a bit more, elbows resting on his knees, and was regarding Garth curiously. “So I decided to start hunting again,” he frowned a little there, picking at the label of his beer bottle, “Bess didn’t agree with that decision. And we parted ways.”

Dean frowned and reached out to pat Garth on his shoulder, “Hey, I’m sorry man. We gotta make the hard call sometimes.”

He smiled over at Dean and shrugged a little, “Yeah I know it; and it was all amicable.” He sighed and sat up a little straighter, “I just thought…what would Spider-man do? And it was pretty clear cut from there.”

Gabriel smiled and reached out to clink his bottle to Garth’s, “Amen, brother. And that brings us to this trickster.”

“Oh, oh yeah!” Garth answered, perking back up, “I did just like you said - got real visible in town - asking questions as best I could to people. I think you’re right about him being lazy - it’s been 5 days and no one’s dead yet.” He passed Dean a newspaper - the headline was about a local teen who’d jumped from the roof of the church. A crowd of people were there watching and caught him, so there were only a few minor injuries. “I don’t even think he’s figured out I’m a werewolf and can just smell him.”

Gabriel tsked in disapproval, “Such an amateur shit-show. No music? No dance numbers? What even is the point of this?!”

“Yeah, he didn’t even manage to kill anyone,” Dean drawled sarcastically, “why even get out of bed?”

“Exactly!” Gabriel blinked, “Wait.”

Garth chuckled, took a drink, then gestured to Gabriel, “I don’t mean to be rude, but are you a trickster too? I mean, you don’t smell like him, but you are definitely not human.”

The archangel shared a quick look with Dean who nodded since Garth was firmly on Team Winchester. “You caught me,” Gabriel said to Garth with a smile, spreading his arms, “I am a trickster; I was the baddest trickster out there until the Winchester’s got to me.”Dean frowned a little at Gabriel, but he supposed that it was the archangel’s secret to share as he chose. He was well aware of the need to keep secrets, so he just took another drink instead and look back to Garth.

“That is so cool!” he was saying with a grin and a shake of his head, “It just goes to show that there’s not one thing that’s _pure_ evil.”

Dean scoffed, “C’mon Garth, you and Gabe are some serious exceptions to the rule here. We’re not going to try talking to this guy.”

“But no one’s died,” Garth argued, “Maybe he just needs-“ Dean cut him off.

“If you say ‘a friend’ I’m going to drive my ass back to Kansas right now, Garth.”

Gabriel made a thoughtful sound as he finished his beer and set the bottle down on the floor, “He’s lazy…but not stupid. No deaths means no victims.”

Dean swore and looked at Garth. “No victims means no blood; we can’t kill him yet.”

The werewolf seemed to chew that thought over in his mind, then turned to Gabriel. “Does a victim have to be dead?”

Gabriel shrugged a little, “I think they’d have to be mortally wounded at least?”

“Hmm,” Garth stroked his chin and looked so overly thoughtful that Dean had to resist the urge to push him off of his chair. “Well, I guess we could have him mortally wound me? Would _my_ blood work then?”

Dean frowned, “Let’s not jump straight to a suicide mission, man…”

“But it’s not,” Garth argued, heading back over to the mini fridge to grab another round of beers and a small brown paper bag. “Not when we’ve got our own trickster on _our_ side to put me right back together again once you’ve gotten my blood on the stake!”

Both men turned to look at Gabriel, who was looking at Garth with new found respect, “…that is ballsy as hell, but I like it.”

“I thought you wanted to stay low profile,” Dean asked Gabriel with a frown, “Now we’re risking Garth’s life?”

“I stayed hidden for over a century, Dean-o,” Gabriel snapped back at him testily, “I think I know what will and will not get me noticed.”

He scowled, crushing down the feeling of hurt as he snarked back, “Well forgive me for giving a shit about the two of you. What’s the plan then?”

Garth opened up his brown paper bag, “You guys mind if I eat while we talk? Wolfy-metabolism and all that…” He pulled out a tupperware container and opened it up; Dean realized it was filled with chunks of raw, red meat and his lip twitch in an instinctive recoil as Garth popped a piece into his mouth and began to chew happily. “So…” he said in-between chews, “I tracked the trickster to an empty barn on the other side of town just outside of his little music zone.” He paused to swallow and grab another piece, licking the pad of his thumb, “If I go in guns blazing, he’ll probably just go ahead and attack me right?”

“Uh Garth?” Dean asked, feeling just a little green around the gills, “That’s uh…a _cow_ right? You’re eating a cow?”

The werewolf paused in chewing, looking somewhat insulted, “Well, what else would it be, Dean? Little Bo Peep?”

Dean cleared his throat, “Right, yep; sorry. Carry on.” Gabriel rolled his eyes at him.

“Anyways,” Garth continued, “Then you guys can follow after me, get my blood, and put him down.”

“Easy-peasy, lemon squeezy,” Gabriel said with a crooked smile, standing up and clapping his hands together, “All this red meat is making me hungry - you want to get some lunch, Winchester? I saw a diner down the road; we’ll be right back Garth.”

Twenty minutes later, Gabriel laughed at him when Dean ordered a salad.

 

* * *

 

The three of them sat in the Impala about a quarter mile from the barn where the Tricker had set up camp. “So we’re actually going through with this crazy-ass kamikaze plan?” Dean asked one final time as he checked his pistol over. It was useless against the trickster but somewhat comforting to have nonetheless.

Gabriel patted him on the knee reassuringly from the passenger seat, “It’s a brilliant plan; have some faith in me and Garth!”

“Yeah!” Garth chimed in from behind him, “You’ve got a werewolf and trickster on your side - this guy’s got no chance!”

Dean couldn’t help but smile a little at his confidence; then he sang “Cause we are the champions, my friends.” All three had just enough time to share an alarmed look before there was a frisson of energy through the car, and they were pulled through space with a jolt.

They all appeared together inside the rickety barn, surrounded by old straw and pallets of lumber, shafts of sunlight shining down through the deteriorating roof. “Ew,” Gabriel commented as he looked around; then a slow clap came from across the barn.

The trickster was a tall, slim man with dark hair and a manicured five o’clock shadow; he wore a tailed 3-piece gray suit. He was grinning meanly at the three of them, with a lollipop tucked into the corner of his mouth. “Bravo on your plan,” he said, “Very bold; I like it. Such a shame you haven’t enjoyed my little show.” The trickster pulled the finished sweet from his mouth and flicked the paper stick off to the side. “You want some blood to try and kill me?” he asked with a smirk. “I’ll give you plenty.”

Garth leapt forward with a guttural growl, hands extended as his fingers grew into claws; the trickster sneered and made a slashing motion through the air. There was a violent gout of blood and a choked yelp as Garth was thrown back - a deep, ragged matching slash cut across his body from his hip to his throat as he landed back at Gabriel’s feet, gurgling and choking on his own blood.

“I’m not quite sure that’s enough blood,” the trickster mused, then pointed two fingers at Dean who lifted his gun decisively and shot Gabriel twice in the chest. Crimson bloomed across the front of the archangel’s shirt and he fell to his knees.

“No!” Dean shouted, voice hitting a weird note from some random song. The trickster _laughed,_ reveling in the casual cruelty of his actions, and Dean looked back to him with a ferocious expression. A familiar seething anger sank into his bones, and he growled out a melody to the trickster, “Let him who thinks he knows no fear, look well upon my face.”

For a moment, the trickster’s expression flickered and his hand paused, then he scowled and slashed his hand again. Dean felt a searing shock of pain flash across his throat, then the hot rush soaking through his clothing as he gagged and choked; he tried to hold the wound closed with his free hand, but it was useless. Dean took a step forward, but he was already going dizzy with every gout of blood that pushed through his fingers, and he also fell to his knees, vision swimming. The trickster’s grin returned in full force, “Nice try, little hunters.”

“Oh gimme a break with this amateur hour bullshit,” Gabriel’s voice cut through the haze clouding Dean’s mind and he watched him climb back to his feet, brushing dust of his perfectly clean shirt.

The trickster blinked, baffled, “How did you?”

Gabriel ignored him and waved a hand at Garth’s frighteningly still form - the werewolf shuddered and took a huge gasping breath suddenly, “I mean, you only make people sing? No _music?_ No dance numbers?!” Dean’s vision was going black and he gurgled at Gabriel, who waved his hand again. “I mean what is even the _point_?!”

The trickster looked insulted, “Who the hell do you think you are?” The bleeding had stopped and Dean could catch a full breath again, though dark spots still danced across his eyes and his hands trembled.

“Oh me?” Gabriel drawled, looking utterly pleased with himself. “I’m your second worst nightmare, because I’m going to show you how it should be done, bucko.”

The trickster scoffed, looking doubtful, “And how’s that?”

Gabriel held up his hand with a flourish, fingers poised, “I’m gonna let the beat drop.” Then he snapped his fingers.

The soudn of the archangel’s fingers echoed through the sudden utter silence that followed it. Garth pushed himself back up to a sitting position, looking at Gabriel with wonder, his nose twitching at the smell of ozone filling the space. Everyone in the barn seemed to hold their breath. And Dean? Dean felt _powerful_. A protective fury flooded him with strength and he reached out, grabbing a broken spike of wood soaked with his own blood from the ground in front of his knees and stood silently as a low hum of music filled the room around them. He lifted his head and locked eyes with the trickster who looked suddenly fearful. Dean’s voice rang out clear and dangerous into the waiting vacuum. “I put my armor on, show you strong I am. I put my armor on; I’ll show you that I am.”

As he held the last note, fanfare of horns blared into the barn and the trickster flinched, looking from Dean to Gabriel who smirked. “Meet your worst nightmare.”

“I’m unstoppable.” When Dean sang, the lyrics became a promise of violence as he began to move towards the trickster. “I’m a Porsche with no brakes. I’m invincible; yeah, I win every single game.” The trickster began to back pedal, waving his hands to no effect as Dean came forward, lips curling into a snarl, “I’m so powerful, I don’t need batteries to play.” The pounding of the drums seemed to beat towards the inevitable, and the trickster suddenly bolted, fleeing in terror through the crowded barn. “I’m so confident, I’m unstoppable today,” Dean was after him like a shot, dropping his gun and vaulting easily over a group of crates as he pursued his quarry.

He hated monsters who ran the most of all. They were so content to torment innocent people with such utter sadism, thinking themselves such powerful fish in their little ponds. But when faced with a bigger shark, they paled and ran, so afraid of punishment. He’d never admitted it to Sammy, but Dean _liked_ being that punishment; he liked seeing these creatures look at him and know that they were about to reap what you sow. Sam may like to think that you can’t fight fire with fire, but you could; and you sure as hell didn’t cure a rabid dog with kindness.

“I’m unstoppable today,” he called to the trickster as he caught up, the music growing in crescendo as he reached out and grabbed a handful of that fancy jacket, body checking him into one of the huge beams supporting the structure. The trickster cried out in pain as he fell to the ground and turned to look up at Dean, hands held up defensively. The hunter sneered at him, “I’m unstoppable today,” then drove his makeshift stake home straight into the trickster’s heart. It screamed in pain and then seemed burn from within, the body turning to a withered pile of charcoal under his hand. The music ended and Dean was left there as his head cleared, panting and covered in blood. He stood up and headed back towards Gabriel and Garth, wonder what the two would think for having seen Dean at his most violent since his Purgatory days.

Garth was standing there with his mouth hanging open in a wide shocked grin, and Gabriel…well, Dean was pretty familiar with the expression of open lust from his years of finding partners where he could. Huh, wasn’t that something.

“That was the most epic thing I’ve ever seen!” Garth declared running forward to throw his arms around Dean in a huge squeezing hug that knocked the breath out of him with his werewolf strength. “You’re such a badass!” He let go of Dean and turned to Gabriel, “Why wasn’t _that_ the plan the whole time?!”

The archangel’s eyes passed over Dean’s body once more before blinking out of it and looking to Garth with a grin. “It was Plan B,” he told him with a shrug, “Or I should say Plan Sia, huh Dean?”

He felt a rush of embarrassment at that suddenly, but before he could so much as scowl, Garth was laughing and throwing an arm around his shoulders, still grinning happily, “Right? Oh man, I will never be able to listen to that song again with picturing Dean going all terminator on it!” Still laughing, Garth pulled away and started heading for the door, “I gotta get cleaned up, this whole place reeks of blood and it’s making me hungry again. You guys up for a burger?”

Dean laughed little at that, shaking his head at the sheer ‘Garth-ness’ of at all. Gabriel smiled at him and snapped his fingers and Dean found himself wearing clean clothes again; and from the happy yell from outside, he’d included Garth as well. “Sorry for uh, shooting you,” he told the archangel who smiled back at him.

“No hard feelings, besides you’re the one who lost like…all of his blood there for a minute,” he replied, gesturing the mess behind them as they left.

 

* * *

 

The three of them were walking back up the road to where the Impala still sat in the distance, Garth spoke again, “Man, I don’t know how you knew I needed help, but I’m real glad you called when you did, Dean.”

“Oh we actually called because we needed your help,” he answered, “We’re trying to track down a skeleton key.”

“A _real_ skeleton key,” Gabriel was quick to clarify, “Not one of those shitty fake ones from a state fair gypsy.”

Garth nodded, “Oh sure, you want some Germanic craftsmanship there - like nothing after the 18th century.”

Dean was lost but Gabriel sighed in relief, throwing a hand in the air, “ _Yes,_ thank you. Someone finally understands what I need!”

“Well I’d love to help, but all my old archive’s somewhere in storage and even that didn’t compare to Bobby’s network…” he replied somewhat sadly.

“You should just come back to Kansas with us,” Dean said, the idea coming to him suddenly.

“Kansas?”

Gabriel nodded, “Yeah that’s true, the boys have a great set up there - huge archive.”

Garth’s eyes widened “A huge archive?”

The more Dean thought about it, the more he warmed to the idea, “Plenty of open bedrooms too - if you’re sure you want to hunt again, you could set your base with us. You were—“ Dean paused and stood still a moment, then looked at Garth seriously, “I don’t think I ever told you, because I was being an _ass_ , but you were pretty good at doing what Bobby did.”

The scrawny hunter gave Dean a slow genuine smile back, then nodded, “Thank you, Dean. That means a lot to me.” The group continued walking, “And having a proper home-base again sounds pretty good, I’ve been living outta the old Garth-mobile mostly, which is convenient but whew…exhausting. So I’m in!”

“Boys, this calls for some victory music!” Gabriel announced, holding up Dean’s cell phone and pressing play with a grin.

Dean’s eyes widened and he lunged for the phone as more pop music began to play, “Why you—!” But Gabriel cackled and danced out of his reach, holding the phone high.

He patted at all of his pockets, checking if Gabriel had pilfered anything else while Garth laughed and sang along “Don’t come for me today! I’m feeling good, let me savor it!”

They piled into the car and Gabriel plugged the phone into the tape deck as Dean turned the ignition over - triumphant music filled the car and Gabriel threw his head back and sang along enthusiastically with a clear, warm voice, “You came to take me away; so close I was to Heaven’s gates! But no baby, no baby not to today!”

Garth laughed and clapped, “Yeah!”

Dean laughed and rolled his eyes, but by the time they were back on the road and headed for the diner, they had a nice three piece harmony going with the chorus.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for Chapter 4: Breadcrumbs


	4. Breadcrumbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garth finds a lead on a genuine skeleton key for Gabriel from an old friend, so Dean and Castiel set out for the Sunshine State.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally found the wherewithal to finish the next chapter so I'm posting it before I think too much about it - I hope you'll forgive the typos you find and enjoy the story as much as I enjoy writing it. This is very much canon-divergent starting from Season 11. Just my own little idea for a story line.

Dean replaced the empty mug of coffee on Garth’s desk with a fresh one. He was stationed next to the bank of radio equipment and computers that he and Sam had been hacking together over the past week. The smaller hunter startled at the unexpected movement, then grinned up at Dean gratefully, “Hey thanks! Oh, what time is it?” He took a gulp of the black coffee and then stretched up from his hunched position with a groan.

“Around 6,” Dean answered, grabbing an open chair and turning it around to cross his arms over the back as he sat.

“Oh good, I was worried I’d missed dinner,” he answered with a yawn.

“It’s Thursday morning, bud,” Dean told him with a sympathetic smile.

“Aw shoot, really?” Garth blinked and peered closer to his laptop, “Well so it is - what are you doing up then?”

He shrugged and replied, “Couldn’t sleep.”

The werewolf nodded in sympathy, leaning back in his chair and holding the warm mug in his hands, “You terrified about the consequences of fighting the ultimate evil with a second apocalypse too? Because I tell you, it is giving me pause.”

Dean laughed a little at that and ran a hand over his hair, “Yeah, I know. But…” He sighed, “Cas and Gabe are both convinced that he’s got some sort of divine approval on the plan, and Sam’s always had more faith than me, so he’s on board. And me? I haven’t got any better ideas…”

Garth had gotten that quiet, thoughtful expression that Dean had only seen a few times before. “You think we can trust these angels?” he finally asked.

“These two, yes,” Dean answered back without hesitation. “We’ve known Cas for years; he’s family, Garth.” And the other hunter nodded at that, content with the answer as he continued, “And for Gabriel? He’s gone to bat for us before and died for it.”

“You two seem pretty close,” Garth observed - Dean didn’t like the cautious note in his tone and worked to keep his expression neutral as he shrugged.

“I’m just sick of only seeing Sam’s face. Why do think I’m hanging out with you?” And he gave Garth a gentle punch to the shoulder.

The younger man laughed and sat forward again to put his mug down and resume typing, “Well it certainly ain’t my rugged good looks.”

Dean smiled, taking a moment to look over the tangled messes of wires and computer parts. “You guys picking up signals from space yet?”

“Not yet!” Garth replied with a grin. “But just you wait - I feel like I could set up the first international hunter network with all this gear!” Looking over his work so far, he quieted a little and looked back to Dean with a somewhat sad expression. “I keep thinking about how much Bobby would’ve loved it, you know?”

Dean’s good mood flagged suddenly at the dull throb of grief that blossomed in his chest, and he nodded, “Yeah he really would have.” He was quiet for a moment, then cleared his throat, “I uh…I don’t think I ever, uh… you know.” Garth was looking over at him with an open, curious expression, eyebrows lifting. “I’m sorry for being a jerk when Bobby died,” Dean forged ahead, forcing the apology out into the open. The werewolf’s expression shifted to such a proud beatific smile that Dean instantly regretted his honesty and considered running away. Forever.

“Apology accepted,” Garth said with a little nod, reaching out clap him on the shoulder, “Thank you.” Dean fidgeted a little, glancing towards the door, and Garth laughed, “I know, I know; Dean Winchester has no feelings.” He was distracted when his laptop gave a chime from the desk, and Dean said a silent ‘thank you’ up to the heavens for sparing him any further heart to hearts. Garth grinned again as he read and then flipped the laptop closed, and stood up. “Start some more coffee - we’ve got our key.”

 

* * *

 

It took a little while to rouse everyone - Cas was a surprisingly deep sleeper now that he’d gotten the hang of it; but eventually the small group was all gathered around the main dining table eating breakfast while Garth excitedly opened his laptop back up. “So I sent an email to everyone I could, just to see who might know anything about a skeleton key from the past fifty years or so,” he explained, pausing to take a sip of coffee.

Sam perked up a little, “Oh yeah?”

He shrugged, “Got a cast a wide net to catch anything worth looking at…and I got a lot bounce backs. But! I finally got something good this morning.”

“Don’t keep us in suspense, Garth,” Gabriel drawled, reaching over to steal a piece of bacon from Castiel’s plate. He frowned at Gabe and pulled the plate to his other side. Which unfortunately put it within Dean’s reach and he stole a piece as well; Cas looked positively betrayed.

“I met a hunter in New Orleans about 10 years ago when I was just starting out - a woman named Renee. She was kind of a mentor for a little bit,” Garth explained, his expression steadily turning to hero-worship and Dean sensed he was gearing up for a story.

“And she’s got a skeleton key?” he interrupted, silently offering his own plate towards Cas in apology. The dark-haired angel took a piece of toast and Dean knew he was forgiven.

Garth blinked out of his thoughts, “Oh, uh, well no, but she thinks she knows where we can find one.”

Sam was leaning forward eagerly in his seat now, tucking his shaggy hair behind his ears, “New Orleans, huh? I guess that shouldn’t really surprise me…lots of magic there.”

“Swing and a miss, Sam,” Garth replied with a grin, “She says it’s in Florida.”

Gabriel’s lip curled in distaste, “Please tell me it’s in Miami at least? Maybe the Magic Kingdom? Just don’t say the Everglades…”

The werewolf gave a bit of a shrug, “Well…it’s Everglade-adjacent. She said to look in the Chokoloskee Pass, off the Gulf Coast.”

“The what-now Pass?”

“Chokoloskee - it’s uh…a small area of islands off just west Florida - south of Tampa Bay.” Garth paused to take a disturbingly large bite from the slab of raw steak on his plate; he chewed and swallowed before continuing. “Renee told me that she’d heard of a warlock who lived in a shack on one of the islands - he was trying to open a doorway into Hell.”

Gabriel perked up, “That does sound promising…” he looked around the table, “Guess we need someone to pay a visit to the Sunshine State. I need to keep building the bindings and wards around this place to prepare for step two.”

Sam looked over to Gabe, “I’d like to help with that, if I could? I’ve been brushing up on my Enochian.”

Dean picked up his coffee and coughed a pointed, “ _Nerd_ ” before taking a drink; Sam scowled at him and he shrugged, “I’m always up for a drive.”

“I would like to go as well,” Castiel joined in from his right, glancing over, “I would welcome the chance to stretch my legs, metaphorically speaking.”

Dean met his gaze and smiled, “Sounds like a plan.”

Garth grinned and clapped his hands together, “And I’ll man the phones! Perfect! We’re like the Justice League!”

 

* * *

 

They had been driving for about a day before Dean’s curiosity over what exactly was so entertaining that Cas kept his nose practically glued to his phone got the better of him. “So, uh, whatcha playing?” he asked finally, breaking the quiet that had fallen in the car.

“Words with Friends,” Cas answered, looking up to meet his eyes, “Right now I am updating my game with Claire.”

Dean blinked in surprise, “You play with Claire? Who else do you play with?”

The angel glanced back down at his phone, “Claire, Sam, Garth, Jody, and several anonymous people.”

“Wow, how come you haven’t asked me to play?”

“I sent you an invitation, but you didn’t reply.”

Dean could feel himself blush with embarrassment suddenly and he looked back to the road, “Oh. Well…you’d probably just kick my ass anyways.”

Cas smiled, “Don’t worry about it, Dean. Sam told me you’re not very fond of games.”

And wasn’t that just like both Sam and Cas? His brother to make excuses for, and Cas to forgive, every little stupid hurt that Dean unknowingly inflicted? He thought about how long it had been since he’d spent any real amount of time with Castiel. Thinking back through the recent past, all he could recall was just a feeling of breathless panic as they chased each other around creation, taking turns pulling the other back from one brink or another - never quite finding each other in the same spaces. Even now, when Cas was staying in the bunker with them - seeming to grow more and more ‘human’ by the day, Dean wasn’t entirely certain he’d been alone with the angel for any real period of time. He looked over at his friend and took in his weary expression. “…You doing okay, Cas?”

Castiel blinked, and then turned his phone off with a small sad smile, “You aren’t referring to how my games are going. I’m doing as well as can be expected.”

Dean looked back to the road as they drove away from the sunset and into the dark of the evening, “How so?”

“I’m not certain that I am actually a seraph anymore,” Castiel said after a long pause, and ending with a heavy sigh that made Dean think he’d been wanting to actually say the words out loud for a long time. “I apologize, I know that sounds alarming.”

He blinked, then frowned in concern, “What makes you think that? What’s changed?”

Cas shrugged a little, looking out of the windshield ahead of them, “Everything, Dean; everything’s changed. I haven’t just died and been resurrected…I’ve been utterly torn to pieces and re-knit together. Again, and again until not a single shred of who I was remains.” As he spoke, Cas lifted up one of his hands and splayed his fingers in the last of the sunlight, examining it. “I don’t know when this body stopped feeling like a ‘vessel’ and began to feel like home.”

“And that means you’re not an angel anymore?” Dean asked quietly, trying for one of the few times in his miserable life not to say the wrong thing.

Cas gave him another small smile, “I mean that it’s safe to say that I have Fallen. I would be an abomination to the creature who pulled you from Perdition those years ago, and yet…I still feel like I am Castiel. Does that make sense?”

Dean thought back to his time spent in Purgatory and Hell; and then thought about finding Sammy at college over a _decade_ ago and telling him Dad had been missing a few days. What would that kid think of Dean now? He nodded and glanced back to Cas, “Using the F-word, huh? Is that why you stopped wearing your uniform?”

The other man looked down at his simple outfit of a flannel shirt over fading jeans and his smile grew a little wider and more genuine. “Partly. And I thought it would be nice to look like an official hunter.”

Dean laughed and smiled back at him, “You certainly look like a Winchester, I’ll give you that.”

Castiel’s phone chimed and he glanced down to it, “Ah. Gabriel has played his turn…” He unlocked the phone to look at the game and then smiled and turned the phone to show him, “Scrotum on a double word bonus.”

Dean barked out a surprised laugh, grinning and shaking his head at that, “Classic…”

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, they pulled into a hotel and settled in for the night, with Castiel propped up against his pillows and taking advantage of the complimentary wifi to continue his games and research on an older laptop that Sam had given him. Dean left him to it and rolled away from the light in his own bed - driving for twelve plus hour stretches had grown less fun over the years and he was looking forward to some sleep. “Don’t stay up too late, Cas,” he said over his shoulder with a yawn, “Don’t need you falling asleep in the swamp tomorrow.”

He could hear the smile in Castiel’s voice as he replied, “I will make sure to be adequately rested.” There was a moment of silence and then he spoke again, “Oh, Gabriel has let me know that he’s continued to remind Sam of the importance of his daily yoga routine. I thought you would like to know that.”

Dean grinned against the pillow, “I do, Cas; tell him I said thanks.” Castiel made a noise of agreement and then the room fell quiet except for the soft white noise of typing and the hum of the air conditioner. He exhaled deeply, let himself relax and sink into the mattress, falling easily to sleep.

In his dream, he was standing at the end of a dock with a well loved folding chair and fishing pole beside him. There was a warm breeze blowing over the lake, and the air smelled like summer. Dean smiled to himself and took a deep breath, enjoying the familiarity of this reoccurring dream; he could hear the sounds of a family barbecue behind him. If he listened closely, he could pick out the different voices laughing and chatting behind him - Sam, John, his mother… Bobby. He never turned around to join them in this particular dream because there was no need or urgency; it was only ever just this moment. The dream was simply the feeling of peace between breaths - a pause in time where Dean can just…be.

“Of all the wonders on this little earth,” Amara’s voice was warm with affection as she lowered herself to sit beside Dean at the end of the dock where he stood. “This is the sanctuary you choose.”

He scowled and stuck his hands his jacket pockets, shifting his weight a little, “I really thought this was just a regular dream.”

“You’re not pleased to see me?” she asked, and the sickening thing was - he was. Amara had a welcoming presence, and Dean felt an attraction that grew with every interaction.

“Why are you following me?” he asked instead, forcing himself to look away towards the distant shore.

“Because I like you, Dean,” was her simple answer. “I enjoy spending time with you - seeing this world from your perspective.”

He scoffed a little, “And that’s it? No ulterior motives? One single little human is just so ruggedly handsome that you can’t stay away?”

“Don’t sell yourself short; you’re so much more than _just_ human, Dean.” She smiled at him and then looked out over the quiet landscape, “I know you have reservations about my nature.”

He looked over at her - Amara looked perfectly human to his eyes. A slim brunette close to Dean’s age, with delicate lines at the corner of her eyes and mouth, and wearing plain dark clothes. Her feet were bare, dipped under the surface of the water, and that surprised Dean - twenty odd years he’d been having this dream, and he’d never put his feet in the water. “I know, you’re evil,” he finally told her, shifting to sit down as well, crossing his legs and folding his hands together.

Amara made a soft, frustrated noise, “According to _whom_?” She frowned and looked over at him seriously, “Who decided what is good and what is evil?”

“Uh…God?” he replied, shrugging a little. There was a low rumble of thunder and he glanced up at the stormy skies in surprise and then back to Amara. Her expression had suddenly grown sharp and dark.

“But who gave Him the **_right_**?” she growled, and lightning sizzled overhead. There was a deafening crack of thunder that rattled Dean’s teeth and sent a shock through him. He was jolted out of sleep and up into a sudden sitting position, heart racing.

Castiel was still and quiet in the bed across from him, and Dean took care to put a shaking hand over his mouth until he was certain that he hadn’t woken the angel with his shallow, panting breaths.

 

* * *

 

Cas was generous enough not to comment when Dean yawned yet again as they cruised down the I-75 and past Tampa. He hoped it was because Dean had installed Words with Friends on his phone and invited the angel to a game; but it could have equally been the oppressive heat and humidity that had invaded the Impala thanks to the late Florida summer. At some point, Cas had lost interest in his phone and was just staring resentfully at the sweltering landscape. “How do humans bear to live in this climate?” he asked, lips curling in disgust.

“The sane humans don’t,” Dean answered, shifting to peel his back from the leather seat for a moment. “No one with any good intentions sticks around in this state.”

“That does sort of make it the logical place for a warlock to attempt to break into Hell,” the angel replied with a quirk of his brow

“He probably was just looking to cool off,” Dean said, smiling over Castiel, who flashed a small grin back at him.

“Very clever.”

Dean laughed, “I have my moments.”

A few hours after that, they drove down through the tiny peninsular town of Chokoloskee and pulled into a quiet, single dock marina where the Gulf glittered in the afternoon sunlight. As they parked, they were greeted by a black woman wearing a pair of cut off jean shorts and a vintage Jimmy Buffet t-shirt knotted up around her waist. She grinned at them from behind blue mirrored sunglasses and waved as she walked over to the car, “Now I _know_ you boys ain’t from around here.”

Dean was instantly smitten and smiled back as he got out of the Impala and offered his hand, “You must be Renee.”

She shook his hand and lowered her sunglasses down her nose to better examine the both of them, smirking, “I simply must be! And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

“Dean Winchester, and this is Castiel,” he answered, gesturing back towards Cas as he walked over and offered his hand as well.

“It’s a nice to meet you,” the angel said formally.

“Likewise! I am Renee - and both of you are overdressed for a trip through the swamp,” she answered pushing her sunglasses back up her nose and waving a finger between them. Both Dean and Cas looked at the other’s long pants and worn in work boots and then made eye contact; Dean shrugged a little and looked back to her.

“Don’t think either of us would pull off daisy-dukes quite so well.”

She laughed and shrugged, “Suit yourselves - I rented us a boat; you boys want to fish a little before we go see if we can find Ol’ Bernard’s place?”

Dean grinned and walked back to the trunk of the Impala to grab the duffle full of more general gear, “I don’t know; I’m not normally much of a fisher but I could be convinced. What about you, Cas?”

“Actually, it would be ideal if we could begin our return to Kansas before nightfall,” Castiel argued with a stoic expression.

Renee clucked her tongue and turned on her heel, waving dismissively, “Yankee boys just like to _rush_ everything… Well, right this way gentleman - I hope neither of y’all get sea sick.”

There was a galvanized metal dinghy tied to the end of the dock with small outboard motor attached. Renee took her place at the engine while Cas and Dean situated themselves and their gear; soon enough, she yanked the cord and with a sharp roar they were headed out across the water.

As they rode, Dean realized that the Chokoloskee Pass was a narrow waterway that snaked through the hundreds of tiny islands that protected the bay. Renee wove them through with a practiced ease and Dean turned around to shout back to her, “How far?”

She shrugged and looked out over the landscape, “Maybe half an hour? I ain’t been there in years, might be hard to spot the cabin.” Dean sat forward again, and brought out his phone to take a picture to send to the group text that Garth had started.

Eventually, Renee turned off from the larger waterway and dropped the engine down to a quiet, puttering pace. “Now keep your eyes peeled boys, the cabin’s nearby someplace,” she told them, pushing her sunglasses up to rest on her hair.

“Look Dean, an alligator,” Cas said, nudging him for attention and pointing alarmingly close to their boat. He looked over and realized that what he’d assumed was driftwood absolutely was not driftwood.

“Huh…are they going to give us trouble?” he asked Renee, who rolled her eyes at him.

“Hell no, they’re like big ol’ swamp cats - just leave them be.”

Dean looked forward just in time to see Cas leaning over the edge to take a close picture, “Cas, what the shit are you doing?!”

“Taking a picture for Garth,” he replied nonchalantly, sitting back up as he typed on his phone, “He’ll enjoy it.”

Dean’s phone chirped and he glanced down to see a close up of a reptilian nose along with the caption, “see you later, alligator.” He huffed out a soft laugh and shook his head as Garth immediately replied with a sea of emojis. “Nerds,” he typed back.

The boat turned beneath them and both Cas and Dean looked up to see Renee angling them towards a particular island. “There, there, you see the old dock sticking out, right there? That’s Bernard’s cabin,” she said, pointing.Dean looked in that direction and spotted the frame, weathered and green, jutting a few feet out from the island they were approaching.

Soon the boat was secured and the three of them were standing on the dock, taking in the skeletal remains of a small cabin. The roof had already partially collapsed and kudzu vines covered most of the structure in a thick blanket of green. Renee frowned a little and crossed her arms, “If Bernard had a skeleton key, it’ll be in here somewhere. Damned if I have any idea how to find it though…”

“Actually, I can help with that,” Cas chimed in, eyes scanning the building thoughtfully, “I believe I can sense it.” Both Dean and Renee turned to look at him in surprise, and he continued, “A true skeleton key is imbued with a bit of divine energy, so I should be able to feel it’s presence.”

Renee quirked an eyebrow and looked at Castiel appraisingly, “That’s not exactly a human talent there, hun.” Dean glanced between them, wondering if there was trouble brewing.

He looked back at her impassively however, then shrugged and answered, “Says the half-fae.”

“What?” Dean blurted in surprise while Renee cackled and clapped her hands proudly.

“Ooo boy, we sure had each other pegged from the start, didn’t we?” she said, patting the angel on the back and moving towards the wreckage, “Let’s get to it then.”

Dean fell into step besides Castiel as they picked their way carefully along the rickety dock and into the wreckage of the house. “I never would have guessed she wasn’t human,” he commented while watching Renee reach up to start pulling down the kudzu covering the door frame. The angel paused and turned to take Dean’s elbow in a slight grip, expression serious.

“She _is_ half-human, Dean,” he told him, “and being fae doesn’t make her a threat ”

Castiel was so sincere that it gave Dean pause and rather than instinctively argue, he nodded and shifted his arm in the angel’s grip to give his forearm a squeeze, “You’re right; she’s a friend of Garth’s and that’s good enough for me.”

The other man seemed to relax a bit at that and he released Dean’s arm to continue walking to the house, “Thank you; now let’s find that key and get out of this damned swamp.”

The trio was hit with the smell of stagnant water and mold as they entered the shadowed interior of what remained of the warlock’s kitchen. “Christ, what the hell was he doing in there?” Renee asked as she stepped through the dappled sunlight that pierced through the overgrowth around them, moving towards the back of the cabin.

Dean and Cas shared a brief look before Cas said, “Nothing good. There’s still remnants of demonic energy here.”

“Also a metric fuck-ton of rotten wood and garbage,” Dean added, wrinkling his nose before taking a few cautious steps forward, probing the integrity of the floors before setting his full weight down. “You getting any blips on your radar, Cas?”

The angel closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, “Yes,” he replied, opening his eyes and motioning to follow Renee further in, “Towards the back.”

The group paused in the hallway to the back of the house. This was where the roof had partially collapsed in, destroying the bathroom and leaving what must have been the bedroom almost impenetrably dark. “I’ll go grab the flashlight,” Dean said and started to turn around, but Renee shook her head.

“No need, I can help with this,” she told him, lifting one hand in front of her. A small pin prick of light appeared and then grew to a warmly glowing ball about the size of a grapefruit hovering in her palm.

“That’s handy,” he replied smiling as the sphere left her hand to float gently into the dilapidated room. The light revealed a stark wooden, windowless room in shambles - there were sigils and runes scrawled on the walls and a rusted, moldy cot shoved in one corner. Various papers and books were spread around with other identifiable bits of garbage and what looked like scattered animal bones.

Renee gave a low whistle as they took it in, “I hope you boys are up to date with your shots. I feel like I’m going to get tetanus just standing here.”

“Cas, you got anything?” Dean asked, eyeing the dark, rotten looking ceiling.

The angel nodded and stepped in to the space. “Yes, it’s somewhere in this room - towards that corner,” he gestured over around the cot.

“Let’s get looking then,” he replied, squaring his shoulders and walking over to the cot, poking at a pile of old clothes with the toe of his boot.

“Ooo, you know what? I think I’ll stay right here and focus on giving you boys plenty of light,” Renee said in a falsely bright tone, “Don’t want to have too many cooks in the kitchen, right?”

Dean rolled his eyes and kept gingerly poking through various piles, occasionally flinching when a gigantic roach would dart out and flee whenever he disturbed its home. “Jesus,” he hissed impatiently when it happened for the third time, reflexively clenching his fist and forcing himself to continue, “so many goddamn bugs in here.” He heard the sound of Cas’s phone taking a picture and looked over to see the angel photographing a few pages from a book. Castiel glanced up and caught him looking, “There’s years of demonic research here, I thought the others want to see what remains of it.”

He blinked and looked around, “That’s a good idea - maybe get pictures of the walls too?” Castiel hummed in agreement and Dean steeled himself to open the small chest by the cot. The lock gave with one solid kick and to his immense relief as he lifted the lid, it looked like the interior had remained relatively intact over the years. There were more books and papers, that he carefully lifted out and set on the bed for Cas to sort through, and there at the bottom, he spotted a length of ball chain peeking out from another stack of papers. “Gotcha,” he said with a smile as he pulled up the loop of chain and found a heavy metal key hanging from the end of it. “Hey Cas -SHIT!”

The floor buckled under Dean’s boot as he stepped away from the chest, and he crashed through the rotten wood, plunging into inky water. For a second he panicked, thrashing wildly in the darkness as he struggled to find which direction he was facing. He was surrounded by more wreckage and obstacles that seemed to reach out and clutch at him, pulling him further from the muffled shouts until all he could hear was his own pulse pounding in his ears. Lungs burning, Dean forced himself to calm down and stop moving - it was impossible to see, even when he exhaled a few bubbles to try and follow their path. This was bad.

“Dean.” He spun in place to see a ghostly image of Amara move towards him through the darkness, offering her hand; he flinched backwards and clattered against a wall of debris. “Dean, take my hand,” she said urgently, her voice echoing clearly even behind the water. He cast about for any other solution; it had to be a trap, but lights were beginning to flash across his vision and he deliriously remembered his dream. Her soft smile. Her bare feet dipped on the water. “Dean, _please!_ Trust me, just once!” With his last bit of strength, he pushed forward to reach out and grab her wrist - instantly, he was pulled forward with inhuman strength,head breaking the surface of the water and gasping in a desperate lung full of air.

“Oh thank God!” he heard Renee’s voice first as he blinked his eyes open to look up to see Castiel’s hand gripping Dean’s wrist painfully, his expression distraught.

“Cas…” he rasped out, reaching his other hand up, which Renee took to help drag him out and lay him on more solid flooring while he panted and coughed. “How?”

The angel knelt by him and rested a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “I don’t know. Renee saw your hand reach out.”

“What fucking crazy son of a bitch tries a put a BASEMENT in a _SWAMP?!_ ” Both men looked over to see Renee pacing angrily back and forth, gesturing at the cabin in disbelief, “We are not going to find that key again.”

“We don’t have to,” Castiel replied and lifted Dean’s hand to show the key hanging from his wrist, “looks like it got tangled in your watch band.” Surprise and relief crashed over Dean and he just laughed, sitting up to unwrap the chain.

“Well thank God for small mercies,” Renee commented, walking back over to crouch besides the two men, “What do you boys say we get the hell out of here?”

They carefully picked their way out of the cabin and back to the safety of the dinghy and warm sunlight. Cas ceded the first seat of the boat so that Dean could strip out of his wet shirt and boots to sprawl out in the bow so he could dry and soak up some of the head from the warm metal. The trip back was quiet and he remembered Amara, appearing to him in the darkness and offering her hand to him; Dean felt a pang of gratitude and couldn’t stop the thought from rising unbidden. _Thanks, Amara._

After a short while, he heard the snap of a camera phone and lifted his head to see Castiel looking slightly sheepish, “Sam and Gabriel both asked for pictures to verify that you’re all right. Sam would like you to call him once we get you another phone and — hm.” Cas’s expression turned confused and he showed the phone to Renee, “What does this mean?” Her eyes went wide and she started laughing so hard, she had to set the boat back on course.

Dean sat up and started to gather up his clothes and gear as they approached the small harbor they’d set out from a few hours ago, “What is it?”

“Gabriel sent some emojis back that I don’t understand - an eggplant and some splashing water?”

Renee just cackled harder, stumbling as she hoped out of the boat to tie them up to the dock. Dean felt himself flush deeply and hoped that it was hidden by his fresh sunburn. “That asshole…” he muttered, shaking his head as he stepped onto the reassuringly sturdy dock to start heading back to the Impala for fresh clothes.

Behind him, he could hear Castiel continuing to speak with Renee, “…oh this is a sex thing, isn’t it?”

 

* * *

 

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Dean,” Garth was saying over the speaker phone while Cas and Dean sat opposite each other on the hotel room bed. “I never thought this trip would be so dangerous.”

“You’ve got more lives than a cat, Dean-o,” Gabriel chimed in.

He could hear Sam take a deep breath before adding, “And holding onto that key was pretty clutch too.”

Dean laughed. “Pure dumb luck, Sammy,” he told him, trying very hard not to think how cleanly and deliberately the chain was wrapped and latched around his wrist, making it impossible for the key to be lost. “So what’s next, once Cas and I are back?”

“Well, we need to verify that the key will work,” Gabriel said, “and I need a little more time to verify my spell work on the bindings. Then we should wait to act until the new moon which is in about a week and a half.”

Dean scowled, “What am I going to do for the next week and a half?” Cas gave him a sympathetic look over the phone and he got the sense that the angel was also still feeling a bit of cabin fever.

“Well, actually I’ve heard about a couple of pieces of news that you’ll probably want to check out,” Garth was saying, and Dean leaned forward a bit. “There’s been murmurs through the hunter channels that something’s been killing crossroad demons.”

Another shared look over the cell phone, and Cas frowned, “Someone’s hunting them specifically?”

“It looks like it - the latest incident was reported by a couple of hunters working a chupacabra job in Juarez.”

Dean perked up at that, “A chupacabra job?! I’ve always wanted to see a chupacabra!” He could hear Sammy laughing in the background.

“Better get your ass back here fast to give us the key then. Don’t want to miss all the goat-sucker action.”

“Actually…” Cas interjected, reaching out to pick the key up from where it sat on the bed spread between them, “I think I will save Dean the gasoline.” He paused and looked up to address Dean directly, “Unless you want to go to Juarez without me?”

Dean shook his head without hesitation, “No, we make a great team, Cas,” he told him quickly.

The angel smiled and nodded, “Be right back.” Then he winked out of sight. Dean blinked in surprise, listening to the sudden commotion coming over the phone.

“Caaaassss!” Gabriel called happily, along with surprised cries from Sammy and Garth.

“I would like to follow these leads with Dean,” said Cas’s gravelly voice.

“Sounds good! Actually, I have a new smartphone for Dean you can take back!” Garth replied.

“Guess you’re heading to Texas, Dean,” Sammy’s voice was closer - addressing the phone directly.

“I’ll consider this my present, Sammy,” he replied, grinning as Castiel reappeared next to him. The angel looked a little green from the use of energy, but waved off Dean’s concerned look and handed him a well loved android phone. “Okay guys, we’d better get some rest and hit the trails tomorrow,” he told the group.

“Bring me back a present, Dean-o!” Gabriel called as they signed off.

After a moment of silence, Dean reached over to grab the laptop and pull up Netflix, “You ever seen The Three Amigos, Cas?”


End file.
